Maybe it's just a sign of age, I don't know. You know the package; the old grumpy guy fussing about how kids talk nowadays, or to that effect maybe? It's just that I can barely tolerate listening to the usage of some words, as they are murdered in public. Another aspect of the old guy syndrome is the evolving usage issue. Some words come into wide application only briefly, and kinda flit away again. Others, just as annoying, remain. So then, we might be able to guess that the short list I intend to bellyache about will promptly disappear next week, leaving me with nothing to complain about! That said, I shall next hazard my list.
It bugs me to hear young men say "totally", when what they mean is "that sounds about right, I guess". It bothers me to listen to girls say "absolutely", when what is intended is a polite agreement, so as to not start an argument in public. The sound of "of course" grates upon my nerves, in that it is almost never applied to instances of common knowledge. "Of course" might apply to Hank Aaron's record number of homers. It almost certainly would never apply to the gross national product of Guatemala, as a "well known number". Number four on my list is "y' know whad I mean?", which is almost exclusively applied to inference sets; of which in fact, I have no idea at all; what you are discussing, y'know whad I mean? Rounding out today's list of word-pookie is the utterly egregious and finally banal misuse of "awesome". An intelligent F-5 tornado, as it demolishes St. Louis; might perhaps qualify as "awesome", the flavor of a stick of chewing gum, hardly ever, at all.
Does any of this matter to you? I mean, you'll have to admit that I completely overlooked the "ebonics" of usage, as in the deployment of "acks", nor did I gripe at all over the misery of "eksetera" (acks Yul Brynner about that one!), so it's not like I'm getting out of control on the topic or something.
No, what bugs me is (I think) the premise that words and language itself are in existence such that by virtue of a common and expected usage of symbols, content of thought might pass from one mind to another. Imagine a world in which conversation was done with semaphore. The flags raised sequentially at certain angles, are to convey across a distance; a message. The "creative" use of flags to imply meaning, rather than convey it; is not "progress" in my mind. To signal "whopper tidal wave" with arms and flags so to refer to a pigeon's nest, might be thought of as an "overly strong" usage, but in fact is weak and wobbly.
The totality of which "totally" is sign, is an oddly "mostly not there" type of totality. Likewise with the absolute, lately gone missing in action in "absolutely". To teach creative writing then, we should aim "down" toward understatement. To habitually overstate is precisely what weakens our words. Compare and contrast "Of course, the totally awesome hamburger, was absolutely delicious, y'know what I mean?", with "The burger was okay, I didn't die". Which of the two more accurately portrays the sitting down to consume greasy ground beef? Furthermore, the unreliable inclusion of "y'know whad I mean?" appears to imply a clairvoyance on my part, as listener, such that the comment itself is unnecessary, since I already knew! If I am to become "great" by the means of shrinking great words; somewhat akin to having F.D.R and J.F.K out back raking leaves, I'd guess such to be an unwholesome development.
Further along this line, the aristocratic laziness involved to simply slap together words willy nilly in any old way seems to imply a certain "high-ness" on my part, which was never verbalized, but implied by it's structure. If then I'm so "up" a person as all that, as to skip my actual statement, and supply instead an uppity hint at meaning which you are to decode as you wish, breaks the rule of communication. The message was not transmitted, and old guys are grumpy about it!
Now what difference any of this makes, is difficult to state clearly. That is, the topic itself seems to transform itself, from a generalized gripe about "youngsters" into a specialized reference set of me, or my generation. And it isn't merely words we witness this phenomenon operating in. Haven't you noticed how people tend to get fixated over time with some small thing or another? Perhaps it is noisy cars "racing" down the street, cupboard doors left open, or "proper etiquette". Some niche or another of expertise presumed is carved out, a trivia, or some narrowly defined history, begins to become an unanswerable redoubt.
Arguments against whether the hull thickness of WWII battleships were vulnerable to torpedoes, end up stalling. Whether or not petunias are perennial, ends stifling conversation, not promoting it. Soon, the turf of the tiny expert becomes unassailable, and next they begin to "humor" you! The "area" chosen by the grump, over which he maintains "unassailable truth", also just happens to be "entirely irrelevant truth". You'll get no arguments, for the simple reason, that nobody (but you) cares enough about it one way or another to fight over it with you. Your "reality" has lately become "numbing", and this is what we mean by the word "old", I think.
Just in the same way as you once went through growth bursts, as a teenager, we age in bursts. To physiologically have grey hair, stooped shoulders and wrinkles might be signs of age, but not necessarily those of being "old". I'm saying that our quirky expertise in dead-end topics, the mastering of conversation killers as a cultivated crop, that is what makes us "old".
And perhaps we could get by with simply swearing off such bad habits as all that, so to refer to ourselves as "young at heart"? Newsflash, only old people talk that way. Nor can the correct answer be simply the development of such a thick hide as to not fly off the handle when "awesome, actually, and fusstrate" begin to manifest. To simply "not-do" will not do!
If language were a garden, you would not (I hope) be glad to simply defend your patch of carrots, and yell at kids who laugh at you as you do so. Our error was neither in the planting, nor in the defending of our gardens, but in failing to enlarge it! We are not place-holders first, but only "hold turf" after it is conquered!
Likewise, we tend to see becoming a grump (getting old) in service to some private expertise set, as a thing (in itself) to be avoided. But, what if the grumpiness is a sign, that we best ought pick up speed in regard to conquest, which would be to learn new things? And I mean that the grump-quotient may well be an on-board warning sign to pick up the pace expanding the garden. If the ever-whittled-down size of the domain, is the problem, then, let's go conquer new dirt!
So, instead of bellyaching about the vapid whippersnapper usage of "absolutely" as a "yes-ish" type of qualified agreement, we proceed instead to extend and ground the Absolute (Himself!) in our words! He the Rock, draws us to Him. It never was about the kid offending, or you being offended. We thereby, no longer satisfied to merely mock the thin gruel of rice krispy treats said to be "awesome", we become small channels of the Awesome One reaching out in space time to grasp in welcome those lonesome boys. Be in Awe of Him boys! Behold: He of Whom, through Whom, and unto Whom be all that is, was, and ever shall be! Or to rephrase, the enemy of old age, is you being friendly to little kids, and teenagers.
We, by main force drive back the forest of ignorance, clearing the trees of guilt and superstition, burning the underbrush of loneliness and fear, so to build a garden, a playground from which we can rest to admire grand vistas. The greybeard was built specially to be the pilot of the D-9 dozer, leading the way into the wilderness. Happily blowing up stumps, knocking down piles of rock, is a glad thing and we won't be happy until we do so. Life is "directional", we spread out, as we gaze up. We root down, so to bear fruit, that others be nourished.
Quickly we sprint. . . into True Arm's glad embrace, as He thunders "Well done Junior!". Words spoken, the entire concept, we borrowed from it's Inventor.
He talks right.
Friday, December 26, 2014
Saturday, December 20, 2014
Science #19 (date unknown)
Over in You Tube land, I watched a few vids recently. If you search for "dumb things Christians say", plus related lines; there appears to be some seriously "unsympathetic to the faith" material out there. In our time, and in our culture this is "normal", and is a one sided arrangement. I do not pretend to be even mildly sympathetic to the modern scientific worldview. But, in my rejection of thoughts, I do not thereby criticize the brain and it's function. Rather the heart and it's intent are what is announced by malice aforethought!
At the heart of man, is "cult". Cult-ure thus formats thought, not vice-versa. We think in the patterns we do, because of a prior heart loyalty. From the outset then, there are no disinterested nor unbiased seekers after truth. Rather, we humans having previously chosen our loyalties, set out next to re-enforce, and so to undergird our position. For instance, the news media types are constantly pretending at an unbiased and balanced reporting of news. The only thing we can safely conclude about such assertions is that the reporters are (for reasons best known to themselves) unwilling to announce their actual position, and that such being the case, we might reasonably distrust the testimony of such secretive souls. I say, we might reasonably distrust, and also we might ask for clarification. But this charity on our part is never, ever returned to us.
If you just once utter the mildest dissent from Darwin, then remember to observe the "charity and understanding" you receive in return! Demur precisely one tad from big-bangery and watch the kind hearted welcome coming next! To differ with the popular cult is to forever be; "a hick, an uneducated and ignorant hillbilly, hopelessly lost in dogma". Fine. . . I'll take that, and return the favor; so to point out that the a priori heart commitment to "Science-ism", or "secular humanism" or whatever it is called this week, is essentially an immanentist supposition. Furthermore, the very same three invisible realities, which are mirrored by three visible; must be, by any competing system of belief; alternately interpreted. But such viewing of things never once addresses these things except via postulate.
Simply said then, Christians are fully committed to three realities, and Science-ists likewise deal with the same three. Science-ists are forced to shape opinion in light of their systemic rejection of Yahweh, whereas Christians are freed to shape thoughts welcoming Him. Thus, we are not discussing thereby faith versus fact, or prejudice versus evidence. Here we see militantly competing faith claims of two disparate religions, and those claims are over the very same turf. That turf can be seen as "is, jazz, and rule". Being (is), speaks of the very "is-ness" of reality, and works from premises to conclusions. Life (jazz), refers to the animated and congruent replication of entities, and almost always is a sidebar to origins. Authority (rule), is a reasoning type defense of the the systemic interpretation, the "who says so" of facty-ness per se, and so formats as the epistemological inference.
And in my Christian dumbness, I shall very briefly outline the Science-ist's basic spin on the three as I understand they themselves to be asserting. Recall, that these are unprovable faith based statements, and far from being themselves "provable", form the presumed bias, by which all further interpretation of data must be viewed from within the cult. It is the lens we see-by, not the thing viewed. The three are the binoculars, not the field of vision.
Is, just is! Formally then, the cult is devoted to an unsupportable premise of the eternality of matter. Oh sure, over in Life, they will stoutly define big-bangery as if the action of explosion somehow "grants" existence of the to-be-exploded, but please note. That grand-daddy whopper black hole of all known matter which "was", prior to the explosion, that guck "in there" has (itself) no point of origin. Science-ism proposes no coherent reason as to why or how the super-compressed stuff ever came about in the first place. So, as a religious premise, there is no "need" (logically) for a Creator, if and since all the stuff of "is" just is, was and shall ever be, all by itself. Further, supposing a Creator in this type of matrix, He Himself would have to (logically) doff His hat, to pay homage to that awfully handy stuff "which can neither be created nor destroyed", as a more-eternal than He! In my opinion, much of the charges against us for being "dumb", are because we fail to admit the supremacy of matter.
Jazz likewise, in this system just happens! Big-bangery is the quasi-cosmology, but the anthropology is closely linked. The cult proposes that chance plus time, equals reality, and this for no reason. That whopper ball of stuff (with zero spatial dimensions); somehow containing all stuff (which would make it the original black hole), one day just kinda went the other way. . . for no apparent reason. Science is quite firm about holes. To pass the event horizon, is to never emerge again from the gravity well, and this (we infer) would be likewise and more-so true of the original monster hole, drawing ever and always "in" Science says; "One day (unaccountably) it went out!". The sucker blew up. . .for no reason. From chaos, order is built by accident, and those hot gasses flying apart from the colossal boom at the speed of light. . . were nonetheless drawn together "gravitationally". Kinda like how when you blow up a stick of dynamite, it ends up looking like the Mona Lisa perhaps? Anyhow, the draw, once again at it, purposelessly exceeds the push, forcing the blobs to spontaneously combust in sustained fusion reactions quadrillions of times in a row? Kinda flukey that. And you know how them gasses are, don't you? Those rascals like to "not draw" (after all) and so they proceed to orbit as they refuse to be drawn all the way in, so to pointlessly become solids, like say planets and such? So, what with one thing and another, chance plus time finally gets around to creating the disordered-order called life, which as we are all quite aware, "tends" toward complexity! Single cell life just spontaneously combusts out of amino acids, salts, and lightning bolts. Unsatisfied with it's lowly self, it becomes, first a fish, then a frog, then a lemming, and then a lemur. Nearly a monkey now, it just goes all the way up to fully chimp! But, life ain't satisfied, and next thing you know. . . poof, here we are! But the entire process is akin to you spilling your dinner into your lap, an accident, and nothing to be learned by it.
Rule, as it emerges in this system, is clearly a latecomer, and might be best ignored. The ape shedding his fur, sprouting a forehead, and dressing up in un-evolved animal hides; one day up and decides to whack his neighbor, so to steal his woman. Rule and authority in Science-ism are purely social constucts, and cannot logically be derived from the is or jazz view. But what goes entirely unsaid, by news anchors and the other "unbiased" among us, is that authority; in actuality, always remains one of the three basic valuations any cult must maintain. The "secret" of the religion of man is that he worships himself, but ordinarily fails to mention it; and thus reserves final authority as a purely personal prerogative. Authority is "vacant" in the cult of science, for the excellent reason that it inheres in the individual believers themselves, and this vacancy is authoritatively maintained!
Being, life, and Authority. the three speak of an unreachable reality which can only be accessed by faith. And we Christian believers are entirely biased, in that we freely link these three to the Person, the Work, and the presence of the Almighty. Not only above and unseen, but below and visible are the three known. Cosmology, Anthropology and Epistemology apply to the high mystery indeed, but they also speak of everyday, and obvious things. It is in how the obvious is maintained, that we draw conclusions about the unsaid biases on the unseen.
Apostle John says it more or less as "having viewed your distaste and mockery of the one we do see, (your neighbor) kinda blows the legs off of any claims of yours about any proposed "high view" of the unseen." How can you love (High) Invisible-True, when you clearly despise the (low) visible-true? If matter is indeed eternal, and "is" just is, if life and the cosmos are the results of staggering and pointless improbability (but that emptiness is all that truly is!), if authority means simply might equals right, then it is okey-dokey to mock. With such a system in place, divorce, the murder of babies, shameless deceit, debauchery and all the rest of what we view in the daily news, is entirely in line with the cult's religious dogma. . . as its' ethic! If Science-ism is true, then there is no evil. But even the believers in and of that cult, maintain the reality of evil, if only to accuse us of it! Their doctrine is forced to admit the reality of evil, while at the same time cannot admit it of itself.
Doctrine it remains, even if it is merely that it's crap doctrine, and even the adherents of the cult hide from being known by their works. But they are never free to deny and walk away from their hopeless enterprise. Simple as simple, the main difference, between the competing faiths, is that we have been freed to acknowledge our need for help from outside our crummy, fallen little systems which we so love building. Or simpler yet, we call for aid upon the Name, "I AM HE WHO HEARS", and He indeed does!
If Darwinism and it's attached misery is the case, then you are a pointless hiccup, in an idiotic rise of goop. If from goop to ape, and then from ape to man, begs the question; "from man to. . . what-next?". Trans-humanism in its' proposed bonding of human consciousness into a digitized format, proposes an "eternal life", of sorts. But that path leads to destruction, for the one "forgotten" reason. Science-ism is always wedded to an immanentist-only type thinking. Strictly speaking, it is "intra-cosmic. . .only!". Thus, there is Nobody "outside" of reality. All persons-ever, within Science-ist premises "must reside inside" the cosmos, and so, there can be no true hope. There is no-one "out there" to call to, in this faith.
We beg to differ! Our hope lives on, indeed He does! There are two faith systems, one man built, and the other introduced by The Builder of Man (and all else). One path is harsh and insane, the other welcomes ex-madmen, and makes tons of sense. The insane faith cannot grasp the sane, but the sane understands and pleads for those yet trapped in hopeless darkness. The darkness has not comprehended the Light.
The King says; "You will recognize them by their actions, you will know them by their fruits". What we "do" then is to accept ridicule, and welcome rejection for our "hick" views. Such is the very highest complement the others could, at this time pay! Until that glad day that they come into their right minds, their rejection remains the highest human endorsement available.
"Rejoice in that day you are rejected (for My sake), for so they treated the prophets before you". The Voice of sanity, is He. Light of the dark world, Friend of the friendless, what a Champion!
At the heart of man, is "cult". Cult-ure thus formats thought, not vice-versa. We think in the patterns we do, because of a prior heart loyalty. From the outset then, there are no disinterested nor unbiased seekers after truth. Rather, we humans having previously chosen our loyalties, set out next to re-enforce, and so to undergird our position. For instance, the news media types are constantly pretending at an unbiased and balanced reporting of news. The only thing we can safely conclude about such assertions is that the reporters are (for reasons best known to themselves) unwilling to announce their actual position, and that such being the case, we might reasonably distrust the testimony of such secretive souls. I say, we might reasonably distrust, and also we might ask for clarification. But this charity on our part is never, ever returned to us.
If you just once utter the mildest dissent from Darwin, then remember to observe the "charity and understanding" you receive in return! Demur precisely one tad from big-bangery and watch the kind hearted welcome coming next! To differ with the popular cult is to forever be; "a hick, an uneducated and ignorant hillbilly, hopelessly lost in dogma". Fine. . . I'll take that, and return the favor; so to point out that the a priori heart commitment to "Science-ism", or "secular humanism" or whatever it is called this week, is essentially an immanentist supposition. Furthermore, the very same three invisible realities, which are mirrored by three visible; must be, by any competing system of belief; alternately interpreted. But such viewing of things never once addresses these things except via postulate.
Simply said then, Christians are fully committed to three realities, and Science-ists likewise deal with the same three. Science-ists are forced to shape opinion in light of their systemic rejection of Yahweh, whereas Christians are freed to shape thoughts welcoming Him. Thus, we are not discussing thereby faith versus fact, or prejudice versus evidence. Here we see militantly competing faith claims of two disparate religions, and those claims are over the very same turf. That turf can be seen as "is, jazz, and rule". Being (is), speaks of the very "is-ness" of reality, and works from premises to conclusions. Life (jazz), refers to the animated and congruent replication of entities, and almost always is a sidebar to origins. Authority (rule), is a reasoning type defense of the the systemic interpretation, the "who says so" of facty-ness per se, and so formats as the epistemological inference.
And in my Christian dumbness, I shall very briefly outline the Science-ist's basic spin on the three as I understand they themselves to be asserting. Recall, that these are unprovable faith based statements, and far from being themselves "provable", form the presumed bias, by which all further interpretation of data must be viewed from within the cult. It is the lens we see-by, not the thing viewed. The three are the binoculars, not the field of vision.
Is, just is! Formally then, the cult is devoted to an unsupportable premise of the eternality of matter. Oh sure, over in Life, they will stoutly define big-bangery as if the action of explosion somehow "grants" existence of the to-be-exploded, but please note. That grand-daddy whopper black hole of all known matter which "was", prior to the explosion, that guck "in there" has (itself) no point of origin. Science-ism proposes no coherent reason as to why or how the super-compressed stuff ever came about in the first place. So, as a religious premise, there is no "need" (logically) for a Creator, if and since all the stuff of "is" just is, was and shall ever be, all by itself. Further, supposing a Creator in this type of matrix, He Himself would have to (logically) doff His hat, to pay homage to that awfully handy stuff "which can neither be created nor destroyed", as a more-eternal than He! In my opinion, much of the charges against us for being "dumb", are because we fail to admit the supremacy of matter.
Jazz likewise, in this system just happens! Big-bangery is the quasi-cosmology, but the anthropology is closely linked. The cult proposes that chance plus time, equals reality, and this for no reason. That whopper ball of stuff (with zero spatial dimensions); somehow containing all stuff (which would make it the original black hole), one day just kinda went the other way. . . for no apparent reason. Science is quite firm about holes. To pass the event horizon, is to never emerge again from the gravity well, and this (we infer) would be likewise and more-so true of the original monster hole, drawing ever and always "in" Science says; "One day (unaccountably) it went out!". The sucker blew up. . .for no reason. From chaos, order is built by accident, and those hot gasses flying apart from the colossal boom at the speed of light. . . were nonetheless drawn together "gravitationally". Kinda like how when you blow up a stick of dynamite, it ends up looking like the Mona Lisa perhaps? Anyhow, the draw, once again at it, purposelessly exceeds the push, forcing the blobs to spontaneously combust in sustained fusion reactions quadrillions of times in a row? Kinda flukey that. And you know how them gasses are, don't you? Those rascals like to "not draw" (after all) and so they proceed to orbit as they refuse to be drawn all the way in, so to pointlessly become solids, like say planets and such? So, what with one thing and another, chance plus time finally gets around to creating the disordered-order called life, which as we are all quite aware, "tends" toward complexity! Single cell life just spontaneously combusts out of amino acids, salts, and lightning bolts. Unsatisfied with it's lowly self, it becomes, first a fish, then a frog, then a lemming, and then a lemur. Nearly a monkey now, it just goes all the way up to fully chimp! But, life ain't satisfied, and next thing you know. . . poof, here we are! But the entire process is akin to you spilling your dinner into your lap, an accident, and nothing to be learned by it.
Rule, as it emerges in this system, is clearly a latecomer, and might be best ignored. The ape shedding his fur, sprouting a forehead, and dressing up in un-evolved animal hides; one day up and decides to whack his neighbor, so to steal his woman. Rule and authority in Science-ism are purely social constucts, and cannot logically be derived from the is or jazz view. But what goes entirely unsaid, by news anchors and the other "unbiased" among us, is that authority; in actuality, always remains one of the three basic valuations any cult must maintain. The "secret" of the religion of man is that he worships himself, but ordinarily fails to mention it; and thus reserves final authority as a purely personal prerogative. Authority is "vacant" in the cult of science, for the excellent reason that it inheres in the individual believers themselves, and this vacancy is authoritatively maintained!
Being, life, and Authority. the three speak of an unreachable reality which can only be accessed by faith. And we Christian believers are entirely biased, in that we freely link these three to the Person, the Work, and the presence of the Almighty. Not only above and unseen, but below and visible are the three known. Cosmology, Anthropology and Epistemology apply to the high mystery indeed, but they also speak of everyday, and obvious things. It is in how the obvious is maintained, that we draw conclusions about the unsaid biases on the unseen.
Apostle John says it more or less as "having viewed your distaste and mockery of the one we do see, (your neighbor) kinda blows the legs off of any claims of yours about any proposed "high view" of the unseen." How can you love (High) Invisible-True, when you clearly despise the (low) visible-true? If matter is indeed eternal, and "is" just is, if life and the cosmos are the results of staggering and pointless improbability (but that emptiness is all that truly is!), if authority means simply might equals right, then it is okey-dokey to mock. With such a system in place, divorce, the murder of babies, shameless deceit, debauchery and all the rest of what we view in the daily news, is entirely in line with the cult's religious dogma. . . as its' ethic! If Science-ism is true, then there is no evil. But even the believers in and of that cult, maintain the reality of evil, if only to accuse us of it! Their doctrine is forced to admit the reality of evil, while at the same time cannot admit it of itself.
Doctrine it remains, even if it is merely that it's crap doctrine, and even the adherents of the cult hide from being known by their works. But they are never free to deny and walk away from their hopeless enterprise. Simple as simple, the main difference, between the competing faiths, is that we have been freed to acknowledge our need for help from outside our crummy, fallen little systems which we so love building. Or simpler yet, we call for aid upon the Name, "I AM HE WHO HEARS", and He indeed does!
If Darwinism and it's attached misery is the case, then you are a pointless hiccup, in an idiotic rise of goop. If from goop to ape, and then from ape to man, begs the question; "from man to. . . what-next?". Trans-humanism in its' proposed bonding of human consciousness into a digitized format, proposes an "eternal life", of sorts. But that path leads to destruction, for the one "forgotten" reason. Science-ism is always wedded to an immanentist-only type thinking. Strictly speaking, it is "intra-cosmic. . .only!". Thus, there is Nobody "outside" of reality. All persons-ever, within Science-ist premises "must reside inside" the cosmos, and so, there can be no true hope. There is no-one "out there" to call to, in this faith.
We beg to differ! Our hope lives on, indeed He does! There are two faith systems, one man built, and the other introduced by The Builder of Man (and all else). One path is harsh and insane, the other welcomes ex-madmen, and makes tons of sense. The insane faith cannot grasp the sane, but the sane understands and pleads for those yet trapped in hopeless darkness. The darkness has not comprehended the Light.
The King says; "You will recognize them by their actions, you will know them by their fruits". What we "do" then is to accept ridicule, and welcome rejection for our "hick" views. Such is the very highest complement the others could, at this time pay! Until that glad day that they come into their right minds, their rejection remains the highest human endorsement available.
"Rejoice in that day you are rejected (for My sake), for so they treated the prophets before you". The Voice of sanity, is He. Light of the dark world, Friend of the friendless, what a Champion!
Sunday, December 14, 2014
Merry Christmas 2014!
Well, this thing right here is some type of landmark, I'd guess? After discharging from the U.S.A.F. back in 80; I began at some point, a sort of "tradition" or another, that of cobbling together, about this time of year; a missive of questionable merit. Normally, some type of nomenclature such as "Beware; for here is yet another genuine, bogus non-card, card". This was to prepare and alert (somewhat) the reader for what followed. Somewhen along the line, I adopted the use of graph paper as the "stationery". Some of the non-cards in years past included some rather poorly rendered drawings. Typical of these artworks, one might picture a "Santa" figure, with a circle about him, and a diagonal line drawn through, so to indicate a "no Santa zone".
Most of these un-cards are careful to alert the reader of a forthcoming definite lack. No New England-y type snow scenes, zero evergreens, zip chatty newsletters, nil reindeer and such like stuff. My Mom was real big on cards, she loved both getting and giving them. To me, snow was just so much ice falling out of the sky; and I never did trust that "Santa" dude back at Montgomery Ward's when I was yet young enough to sit on his knee, so to chat up the weirdo. Moreover, I found it disturbing as a youngster to note the obviously fake beard on the guy, but as a boy, could not imagine how best to discuss the topic. Mom (or somebody?) apparently "wanted" me to believe in the icy strange pants drill, and so; I pretended to buy the yarn. For precisely whose benefit this pretending went on, I (to this day) can't say.
I can still recall my brother Jim attempting to convert me out my deep agnosticism on the whole Christmas schmeer. I was perhaps a first or second grader, so Jim must have been about 11? He was trying to convince me of how terribly reasonable it was to build "here". I recall objecting at one point in the conversation; "We don't even have a fireplace, so how could it be that the guy drops in?". His memorable and stunning response; "He uses the air ducts on the furnace", seemed an even worse answer than the fireplace drill. Our furnace louvers were about 1/4 of an inch wide! How small afterall, is jolly old Saint Nick anyhow? And how could such a teensy person lug that monster bag around?. . .
Honestly, I strongly doubt that it once occurred to me to surmise, that the link to be made here is to a magical, or mysterious reality. The logistics and the planning required to gain entry on millions of households, in only a few hours time, was "where" my brain lived in those days. The astounding amount of speed and flawless execution such an annual reverse burglary would have required, meant (in brief) that I simply assumed that these people buying into the story were insane. Ergo, Santa is not a left-brained phenomenon. The linear, logical and reasonable are supposed to be on vacation "here". The right brain was/is being given permission (temporarily!) to operate unmolested. I never, in those days; thunk that. Our very human need to believe in a terribly competent "father" (of some kind); who loves all children (even me?) just did not ever cross the brain scope in those days. Further, the premise that the cat was watching my every move, such that I could score points, so to derive cool stuff, seemed both; way too simple, and also more than a little perverse of the creep.
All this said, it seems to me now, that I was out to "correct a problem". I had somehow become the sole survivor of logic and truth, and it (apparently?) was my job to "fix" those poor saps who had become unfortunately seasonally delusional? That said, what better method then, than do de-program the victims with a bit of shock therapy? Thus, Christmas was never a matter (for me) of basking in a glow, nor enjoying the getting all sentimental about days gone by. Hoping for a better tomorrow, was (in my book) a tomorrow devoid of lunatic assertions about invisible fat people. Other than these observations today, I cannot really say just why I bothered generating my monstrous non-card things all those years. The summary of many of them usually sounded something like; "Christmas is a religious feast. . . which has gotten entirely out of control!". No longer about Messiah Jesus, but twisted somehow into a kind of communal guilt tripping over whether or not one is properly "in the spirit of the thing". If one is approved on that score, we are then to behold some inane one upmanship gig about getting-even, (plus some) on the gifts given (and received) tally? Who (in their right mind), could possibly care about either? If Christmas is fundamentally a "caring-for" day, them's some mighty slim pickin's!
So, to return briefly to the original topic, this marks the first ever cyber-digital type of non-card, card I've generated. No longer handwritten, and then xeroxed down at the U.P.S. store, this here model is all 21st cen! And to be honest with you, the writing of it hasn't been much of a priority for me this year. Not even I care about the blasted thing, but for Mom, and for tradition's sake, I will hammer this rascal out. Behind or perhaps beneath all of those previous non-cards is an unspoken "beef' with Dec. 25. And not to put too fine a point on it, but the modern version of the day is horrendously and astoundingly depressing. Some vague statistic I pretend to recall is that suicide attempts skyrocket during (precisely) "the season". I, for one am not surprised in the least, supposing such is actually the case. The craziness of a "happy/sad" day is confusing enough, that perhaps a little sign; or bumper sticker might help clear things up? It might be a little like those drivers you see all over the roadways. You wonder where their sign is. You are on a major artery in town, with a posted limit of 35. Clown-zilla, smack in front of you; is blazing right along at 22? Where is the sign? Or, how about we just put a bumper sticker on, reading "no license, no insurance"? So thus, for Christmas, the deal, is that I am supposed to "care" about "the season" (yuck!) by eagerly listening to forecasts of probable retail sales? That (?) is what the "joy" is all about? An invented "marketing opportunity", specially designed for families with youngsters, and this year's version of gross sales, versus years-past, kinda forgets something. That little matter is that not all of us have mates, not every person has children. The marketing and profits all hinge upon marriage. And as a single, my sign plainly reads "I don't belong here". If you don't have a tyke to bounce on the knee, nor a sweetheart to snuggle with, the fiesta in question turns out to be a day off work, maybe (if somebody takes pity on you) some turkey and spuds, and a day to loaf. It's a sugar coated Saturday, in which the acquisition of more "stuff" is supposed to gladden the heart? Not depressing enough for you? Oh, I forgot to mention that to notice the sadness of this is "not being in the spirit of the season", strictly verboten!
True to form however, as with many of the previous versions of this mess, I shall next proceed to abruptly shift gears, so to wax eloquent on an (apparently) unrelated topic. I've been thinking lately about Job. To me, the whole Christmas gig is in that short little book. In my Bible, the thing spins up on pg. 662. If you get to Psalms, just back up a few pages. Christmas is Job, at least for this year's version of the anti-card. The poor guy keeps saying essentially, "Hey look, if I'm wrong, then I'm wrong, and I'll come clean, but you could, at least do me the simple honor of telling me where it was that I supposedly went so far off the rails!". Dial tone. Or worse than a dial tone, the line has gone clean dead. There is no answer to be had for the righteous-est man on earth, as he is unfairly crushed.
Hmmm, where else have we heard this idea? The champion of right-way-ness in all Earth, being crushed, though he himself did no wrong? Ring a bell? Job is a type of the Messiah! The inscrutable and seemingly "pointless" devouring of that honest dude Job, sounds to us, to have been some sort of awful mistake.
See? The ordinary way we look at things, is much like Santa. Picture this, if you do good, you get pinball machines, and go-carts. You screw up, you get a lump of coal! Apparently, we are pre-wired to view reality through some sort of promise and reward type of lens. The Hebrew understanding of their champion is David the King, that military genius, and swashbuckling vato of success. Jesus is walking around saying stuff like; "I'm heading on up to Jerusalem, they'll kill me, then put me six feet under; and on the third day I'll bust out of the tomb". So (naturally) the 12 figured that either He'd been out in the sun a little too long, or that this was some kind of metaphorical type "spiritual" teaching. Even on the day of the murder, maybe (just maybe) one person on the planet "got it" besides The King. Remember that Mary came beforehand, anointing His body for burial. She knew, what you now know, it was the only way!
The Jews figured that the Son of David would open up a king-sized can of whup-ass, and drive the stinkin' Romans out, (if He were truly The King that is). The entire concept of the unfair punishment of the only good Guy ever, and Him crushed to death (this pleasing to the Father?) just did not crop up on the brain scope. Doesn't "victory" mean. . . victory? Since when is "winning" defined as "getting pounded into the soil"? How could conquest of the nations be a fall guy taking the rap for crimes he never committed? Overcoming, solving, repairing the woes of the world seem to require a "going up". From our perspective, greatness, appears to be basic, but the only real solution is actually a crushing loss, bringing a dreadful sorrow. When it came, nobody saw it coming, certainly not then! And to be honest, nobody ever would or could get it, at least not without help. Help came.
In his day, Job tried as hard ever as he could, to hold up his end of the bargain, yet in the end, had to fold. The righeous-est man on Earth failed. We needed another Job, a "super-Job", who although fully man, could bear that Almighty crushing, and like the lamb led to slaughter, never once claim His rights in the process!
The magic of Christmas, is just about "here" somewheres. Post resurrection, and with the aid of the Spirit Holy, the early believers were practically lining up to likewise participate in this new thing in Earth, this "winning by losing". Their smashing victory, and overturning of the Roman Empire was in the participation with their Captain; as He captured and turned the hearts and minds, of the many! The weak, though weak indeed, was proving stronger than the strong! Their loss, (with Help and in Christ alone) became an unheard of kind of win. The ugly, marred visage of Him-crushed (who was no "looker" to begin with), became in them the Beauty-everlasting. He, The Finder, the Friend, the True Brother, Him accepting them willingly, intercepts the fury from on-high in His body. The "wall" He thereby forms, proves to be the only shield available when that Un-created Rage, long predicted; finally and actually does manifest.
"Maranatha, even so, come soon Lord Jesus", is a wild thing to say! Think it over. We are pleading with the High-Holy-One, to come burn down reality, so to shatter beyond any hope of recovery, the world, and (near as I can tell) the universe! We are asking Him to be The Final Calamity (in Person), and that before our very eyes! The insane high treason of the enemy forever blown to flinders, all human and demonic wickedness to come to a permanent and screeching halt, this devastation in blinding violence; it's this we ask for? Devastation, way way beyond some puny super nova, or even some type of unimaginable "galactic uber-bomb", we plead for the return!
The crushing of the one Innocent Man, that true-Job, is the only shelter ever invented, which could (and surely shall!) survive that day. And He came willingly? There is a deeper magic then. Our shabby insane market holiday is but a dim whisper of the fiercely real, the True Father All Seeing, who lovingly prepares the only present worth-having, in that great and terrible day; life!
They call Him "The Save-er", and save-indeed He does! Saving from sin, and from death, so too from the hell of fire. He thereby saves from fear, from fear's twin; loneliness, and even from sadness, but best, and first-always, He is saving us. . . from Him! It was the only way, left open; and He took it!
Oddly then, this type of thinking reverses things, making you, yourself, into the Christmas present. That beautifully wrapped mystery turns out to be y'all! And it is the one He most eagerly anticipates opening! Merry Christmas, you Christmas present-you! Bask in that glow, loaf, and remember. Hope in the surely better day coming. Eat lots of turkey, bounce many little kids on your knee, it is a religious feast, gone all right!
Most of these un-cards are careful to alert the reader of a forthcoming definite lack. No New England-y type snow scenes, zero evergreens, zip chatty newsletters, nil reindeer and such like stuff. My Mom was real big on cards, she loved both getting and giving them. To me, snow was just so much ice falling out of the sky; and I never did trust that "Santa" dude back at Montgomery Ward's when I was yet young enough to sit on his knee, so to chat up the weirdo. Moreover, I found it disturbing as a youngster to note the obviously fake beard on the guy, but as a boy, could not imagine how best to discuss the topic. Mom (or somebody?) apparently "wanted" me to believe in the icy strange pants drill, and so; I pretended to buy the yarn. For precisely whose benefit this pretending went on, I (to this day) can't say.
I can still recall my brother Jim attempting to convert me out my deep agnosticism on the whole Christmas schmeer. I was perhaps a first or second grader, so Jim must have been about 11? He was trying to convince me of how terribly reasonable it was to build "here". I recall objecting at one point in the conversation; "We don't even have a fireplace, so how could it be that the guy drops in?". His memorable and stunning response; "He uses the air ducts on the furnace", seemed an even worse answer than the fireplace drill. Our furnace louvers were about 1/4 of an inch wide! How small afterall, is jolly old Saint Nick anyhow? And how could such a teensy person lug that monster bag around?. . .
Honestly, I strongly doubt that it once occurred to me to surmise, that the link to be made here is to a magical, or mysterious reality. The logistics and the planning required to gain entry on millions of households, in only a few hours time, was "where" my brain lived in those days. The astounding amount of speed and flawless execution such an annual reverse burglary would have required, meant (in brief) that I simply assumed that these people buying into the story were insane. Ergo, Santa is not a left-brained phenomenon. The linear, logical and reasonable are supposed to be on vacation "here". The right brain was/is being given permission (temporarily!) to operate unmolested. I never, in those days; thunk that. Our very human need to believe in a terribly competent "father" (of some kind); who loves all children (even me?) just did not ever cross the brain scope in those days. Further, the premise that the cat was watching my every move, such that I could score points, so to derive cool stuff, seemed both; way too simple, and also more than a little perverse of the creep.
All this said, it seems to me now, that I was out to "correct a problem". I had somehow become the sole survivor of logic and truth, and it (apparently?) was my job to "fix" those poor saps who had become unfortunately seasonally delusional? That said, what better method then, than do de-program the victims with a bit of shock therapy? Thus, Christmas was never a matter (for me) of basking in a glow, nor enjoying the getting all sentimental about days gone by. Hoping for a better tomorrow, was (in my book) a tomorrow devoid of lunatic assertions about invisible fat people. Other than these observations today, I cannot really say just why I bothered generating my monstrous non-card things all those years. The summary of many of them usually sounded something like; "Christmas is a religious feast. . . which has gotten entirely out of control!". No longer about Messiah Jesus, but twisted somehow into a kind of communal guilt tripping over whether or not one is properly "in the spirit of the thing". If one is approved on that score, we are then to behold some inane one upmanship gig about getting-even, (plus some) on the gifts given (and received) tally? Who (in their right mind), could possibly care about either? If Christmas is fundamentally a "caring-for" day, them's some mighty slim pickin's!
So, to return briefly to the original topic, this marks the first ever cyber-digital type of non-card, card I've generated. No longer handwritten, and then xeroxed down at the U.P.S. store, this here model is all 21st cen! And to be honest with you, the writing of it hasn't been much of a priority for me this year. Not even I care about the blasted thing, but for Mom, and for tradition's sake, I will hammer this rascal out. Behind or perhaps beneath all of those previous non-cards is an unspoken "beef' with Dec. 25. And not to put too fine a point on it, but the modern version of the day is horrendously and astoundingly depressing. Some vague statistic I pretend to recall is that suicide attempts skyrocket during (precisely) "the season". I, for one am not surprised in the least, supposing such is actually the case. The craziness of a "happy/sad" day is confusing enough, that perhaps a little sign; or bumper sticker might help clear things up? It might be a little like those drivers you see all over the roadways. You wonder where their sign is. You are on a major artery in town, with a posted limit of 35. Clown-zilla, smack in front of you; is blazing right along at 22? Where is the sign? Or, how about we just put a bumper sticker on, reading "no license, no insurance"? So thus, for Christmas, the deal, is that I am supposed to "care" about "the season" (yuck!) by eagerly listening to forecasts of probable retail sales? That (?) is what the "joy" is all about? An invented "marketing opportunity", specially designed for families with youngsters, and this year's version of gross sales, versus years-past, kinda forgets something. That little matter is that not all of us have mates, not every person has children. The marketing and profits all hinge upon marriage. And as a single, my sign plainly reads "I don't belong here". If you don't have a tyke to bounce on the knee, nor a sweetheart to snuggle with, the fiesta in question turns out to be a day off work, maybe (if somebody takes pity on you) some turkey and spuds, and a day to loaf. It's a sugar coated Saturday, in which the acquisition of more "stuff" is supposed to gladden the heart? Not depressing enough for you? Oh, I forgot to mention that to notice the sadness of this is "not being in the spirit of the season", strictly verboten!
True to form however, as with many of the previous versions of this mess, I shall next proceed to abruptly shift gears, so to wax eloquent on an (apparently) unrelated topic. I've been thinking lately about Job. To me, the whole Christmas gig is in that short little book. In my Bible, the thing spins up on pg. 662. If you get to Psalms, just back up a few pages. Christmas is Job, at least for this year's version of the anti-card. The poor guy keeps saying essentially, "Hey look, if I'm wrong, then I'm wrong, and I'll come clean, but you could, at least do me the simple honor of telling me where it was that I supposedly went so far off the rails!". Dial tone. Or worse than a dial tone, the line has gone clean dead. There is no answer to be had for the righteous-est man on earth, as he is unfairly crushed.
Hmmm, where else have we heard this idea? The champion of right-way-ness in all Earth, being crushed, though he himself did no wrong? Ring a bell? Job is a type of the Messiah! The inscrutable and seemingly "pointless" devouring of that honest dude Job, sounds to us, to have been some sort of awful mistake.
See? The ordinary way we look at things, is much like Santa. Picture this, if you do good, you get pinball machines, and go-carts. You screw up, you get a lump of coal! Apparently, we are pre-wired to view reality through some sort of promise and reward type of lens. The Hebrew understanding of their champion is David the King, that military genius, and swashbuckling vato of success. Jesus is walking around saying stuff like; "I'm heading on up to Jerusalem, they'll kill me, then put me six feet under; and on the third day I'll bust out of the tomb". So (naturally) the 12 figured that either He'd been out in the sun a little too long, or that this was some kind of metaphorical type "spiritual" teaching. Even on the day of the murder, maybe (just maybe) one person on the planet "got it" besides The King. Remember that Mary came beforehand, anointing His body for burial. She knew, what you now know, it was the only way!
The Jews figured that the Son of David would open up a king-sized can of whup-ass, and drive the stinkin' Romans out, (if He were truly The King that is). The entire concept of the unfair punishment of the only good Guy ever, and Him crushed to death (this pleasing to the Father?) just did not crop up on the brain scope. Doesn't "victory" mean. . . victory? Since when is "winning" defined as "getting pounded into the soil"? How could conquest of the nations be a fall guy taking the rap for crimes he never committed? Overcoming, solving, repairing the woes of the world seem to require a "going up". From our perspective, greatness, appears to be basic, but the only real solution is actually a crushing loss, bringing a dreadful sorrow. When it came, nobody saw it coming, certainly not then! And to be honest, nobody ever would or could get it, at least not without help. Help came.
In his day, Job tried as hard ever as he could, to hold up his end of the bargain, yet in the end, had to fold. The righeous-est man on Earth failed. We needed another Job, a "super-Job", who although fully man, could bear that Almighty crushing, and like the lamb led to slaughter, never once claim His rights in the process!
The magic of Christmas, is just about "here" somewheres. Post resurrection, and with the aid of the Spirit Holy, the early believers were practically lining up to likewise participate in this new thing in Earth, this "winning by losing". Their smashing victory, and overturning of the Roman Empire was in the participation with their Captain; as He captured and turned the hearts and minds, of the many! The weak, though weak indeed, was proving stronger than the strong! Their loss, (with Help and in Christ alone) became an unheard of kind of win. The ugly, marred visage of Him-crushed (who was no "looker" to begin with), became in them the Beauty-everlasting. He, The Finder, the Friend, the True Brother, Him accepting them willingly, intercepts the fury from on-high in His body. The "wall" He thereby forms, proves to be the only shield available when that Un-created Rage, long predicted; finally and actually does manifest.
"Maranatha, even so, come soon Lord Jesus", is a wild thing to say! Think it over. We are pleading with the High-Holy-One, to come burn down reality, so to shatter beyond any hope of recovery, the world, and (near as I can tell) the universe! We are asking Him to be The Final Calamity (in Person), and that before our very eyes! The insane high treason of the enemy forever blown to flinders, all human and demonic wickedness to come to a permanent and screeching halt, this devastation in blinding violence; it's this we ask for? Devastation, way way beyond some puny super nova, or even some type of unimaginable "galactic uber-bomb", we plead for the return!
The crushing of the one Innocent Man, that true-Job, is the only shelter ever invented, which could (and surely shall!) survive that day. And He came willingly? There is a deeper magic then. Our shabby insane market holiday is but a dim whisper of the fiercely real, the True Father All Seeing, who lovingly prepares the only present worth-having, in that great and terrible day; life!
They call Him "The Save-er", and save-indeed He does! Saving from sin, and from death, so too from the hell of fire. He thereby saves from fear, from fear's twin; loneliness, and even from sadness, but best, and first-always, He is saving us. . . from Him! It was the only way, left open; and He took it!
Oddly then, this type of thinking reverses things, making you, yourself, into the Christmas present. That beautifully wrapped mystery turns out to be y'all! And it is the one He most eagerly anticipates opening! Merry Christmas, you Christmas present-you! Bask in that glow, loaf, and remember. Hope in the surely better day coming. Eat lots of turkey, bounce many little kids on your knee, it is a religious feast, gone all right!
Sunday, November 30, 2014
Muh Ol' Day-ad
Sundays are going to be different from now on. For the past couple of years I've tried to call (on the phone) my old Dad, hence the title of this C.P.E.. I wrote the title that way, because that is my usual pronunciation. No more shall I dial up "the old guy" (as my brothers and I once called him), and announce "Ola' Papa-san, this is #2 down in Cruces". That's history now, it's over. Pop died.
It ain't like this caught us all flat-footed. We were not blindsided by a shock. It was much more like the snow arriving in due time, just about six weeks after the first morning frost is spotted in late October. He just kinda ran outta juice.
I suppose it's inevitable that kids imprint upon their parents. I mean, what would the other option be? I imprinted as a boy, very heavily upon Carl N.M.I. Labor. By the time you hit your 30's or so, it becomes clear that you have become "more like your Dad (or Mom). . . than he is!". At minimum, such was the case with me. Now, as a side note; it is not entirely clear to me, whether in this essay to refer to the guy in the past or present tense. So there might well be some slop, category-wise herein. Anyhow, Pops was/is as much a "think" guy as you're likely to ever meet. It was all about cognitive brain action with the dude. A big word with Dad is, "to grasp"; as-in to understand a concept or idea. He loves puns, riddles, word problems, history and all things factual. A sort of one-man reality committee perhaps? Big conceptual word formats here are "realistic, unworkable, and actual" that there kind of thing. That is to say, he was informally at war with the entire schmeer of the "hold onto your dreams" school of thought; which has (until today at least) captured the imagination of the "West".
See? It wasn't really "all about" whether (or not) you were personally all fulfilled in life, realizing goals and whatnot. That junk was for rich kids. Us blue collar types, who in fact do the WORK required to make the world go round, don't have the leisure to hang around bellyaching about some vague sense of unfulfillment. There is altogether too much work for us to be doing around here, to allow for any standing around, whining about whims not realized. . . I drank deeply at this well, so too my brothers and sisters. The whole "hip generation" thing just basically mystified him. Uhm, them there swingin' cats who are out to "get in touch with themselves", so to "tune in, turn on, and drop out" are just so many ill groomed morons to Carl.
I think my favorite story of Dad's, was told just a year or two ago. He was really depressed, and so I just changed the topic on him. I said; "Pop, Christmas will be coming up pretty quick, what's the single most memorable Christmas you recall?". Without any hesitation, he jumped over into 1930. He was nine. He said; "You know what I got that year?. . . An orange!". It was the height of the Great Depression, and immigrant dirt-poor farmers (with a house full of kids), dug deep; and were able to outfit each one of their children with precisely one orange each! Hey, in the 30's it's not like you stroll the aisles of your friendly neighborhood grocer and pick up fresh produce gathered from across the world. Oranges were rare at that time of year! He said; "I took it upstairs with me up to bed. I peeled it carefully, and enjoyed like hell each and every slice! I saved-up the peel, and nibbled on it, until it was all gone. Best damned orange I ever had! Hell, I didn't even realize that our family was poor until I was about 14, when it dawned on me that Mom and Dad could not afford shoes for us boys.". So, the whole hip-generation thing with it's "angst, and the terror of being", or some darned thing, just was not a pressing concern for mister no middle initial. It was about work, it was about survival, and making the best that you can, of a bad situation. That's Pop.
The one word that comes to mind when I think of the man, is "integrity". He loved using words like "honesty, common sense, and judgement". I do not recall him ever once smirking slyly that someone "got away with" something or another. He firmly believed, and said; "It will catch up with them eventually. Just you wait and see.". The very idea for instance, of seeing a coin fall out of a stranger's pocket, and keeping it himself, would be laughably improbable. Such a thing simply would not occur. . .ever. Carl was ever and always on duty, keeping guard on his own soul, on his own appetites, and passions. Order, always and ever trumped chaos, and Pop was the man who made it happen. So if his word was/is "integrity" I prefer to translate that into mike-speak as "word-oath".
It was very difficult to anger him, (I managed it a few times only) but what surely drew his ire was "politicians", or more accurately "those dirty bastards". The entire problem here rotates upon the axis of word-oath. A man is as good as his word, and no more; and no less. Black, white, young, old, immigrant, native, educated, simple, none of that crap ever mattered a hoot. What the solitary measure was, was promise and it's fulfillment. Marriage sworn to death, was a playing of hardball on this score, and there was zero "chance" of him ever, ever "backing out, because we fell out of love". Such blather as that, was "incomprehensible bullshit", and that's him being charitable! Either you were a man. . . or you weren't, and the only working codex available so to determine that measure-by (in his book) was the "rock" of a man's word. This was Carl. "In the end you have to live with yourself, and your decisions. A man never went wrong by being honest". Oops, I appear to be channeling over here. But my point is this, "those dirty bastards" promised! Before God and man, with hand upon the Bible, they swore! They said they would uphold law, they said they would govern for the benefit of the whole community, not for the enriching of their stinking miserable cronies and goons! Dad could never forgive that. Ever.
Pop, for the majority of his life was "outgoing", or so he imagined at least. I (for one) am convinced that somewhen in the 30's, there must have been some type of social consensus "out there" that it was fundamentally a better kind of thing to be an extrovert. See? There are only two kinds of people, givers and takers, workers and bums, contributors and parasites. If that much be granted, then extro is always the better option, and if you'll just try (!) you too can become an out-going "people person"! Let's just say that the results of that experiment are (at best) "mixed". I saw through this, even as a boy. I've always preferred to be alone. I get inspired with one or two (at most) very close friends, in a lucid and interminable all-nighter. Being shoulder to shoulder with throngs, or interacting with strangers, pretending to care is a tax to pay, and it is exhausting. Carl was that way too, but for decades, could not really center in there. This extroverted gig was "the right thing to do", best to be outward poised, and well; that settles that. And it kinda worked (in an awkward way) all those years, until it all came crashing down a few years back. "We can always hope" is Carl Labor, but when it became clear to that very visual soul, that he could never retrieve lost eyesight, he slipped into a depressive pity party that shocked even him. He was scared I think by the depth of despair, and really really did NOT want to "deal with it". His old pattern was finally cracking. The other shoe had finally dropped, and he was panicked to somehow return it to it's "rightful place". Nan and I both knew the dark side; but it surprised the heck out of him. When I said; "So you wanna die huh Pop? Well, take a number, and get in line with every other swingin' dick! You think you're the first on this page Dad? I've battled down suicide for over 30 years, and kicked it's sorry ass. But, I didn't do it alone! Your daughter Nan; you recall her? You know the one devastated in heart, over that lost son? You dig that divorce drill of hers? And you don't think that (just maybe?) that nearly tore her to pieces? Newsflash Dad, she didn't do it alone either!". It was an odd response that I got from him. It seemed to disquiet him that "somehow" he had entirely "missed" major "facts". This sort of thing (if true) breaks the Carl rule you see? The "king of the (fact) world" ought not "miss" such enormities. But, he simply discounted the entire conversation as perhaps a hallucination? I might as well have been talking to a wall. The guy could be fantastically, and wildly rude when "needed".
Not quite two years ago, that whole "me, me, me thing"; with regard to "I just want it to end, I just want to die", slowly ever so slowly began to recede. When you feed a baby you use dinky spoons and lots of repeat efforts. Shovels are for feeding teenagers. 91 year old Pop was a baby, and so in little doses, we cover the turf over and over again, from a hundred perspectives, first close up and then from far away. But the recurring hiccup is him burping up the chow (again) because (oddly) hope "must live", and his appears to be very dead. So, simultaneously he's both right, and refuses to "go there". Hope did die! It happened on a hillside in desert country, perhaps you've heard?
Carl is big on "letting go". For decades, we all hear; "Just let your grief go. Let that anger pass, and we've got to just let go of worry". Sounds easy huh? But the roadblock here was always hope. We needy humans need hope like we need air. We wither and die without it, and Pop simply could not "let go" of his hopelessness. "To see is to understand, to view is to know. Without sight, what am I?". But he could not ever "see" the love all around him, nor could he "see" that hopelessness itself must at some point "be let go of". At least he couldn't see it without help. Pat, not a hundred times but more, Lynn, not Pat's amount, but more-so yet; guide, aid, comfort, and counsel. The world upside down, and the child is leading the parent home? Weird world you got there pal. Slowly but slowly, the wall which was Dad, the rock which was Carl; was being breached. He no longer fought me and rudely walked off, when the topic of Jesus came up. He actually sat still to listen to how the Captain came to find me? After 30 plus years, he finally sat still for that story? Who are you, and what have you done with Carl Labor? The key to the man wasn't really integrity, in itself, but rather; "How in honking hades it turned out that me, poor wrecked Carl, somehow or another apparently ended up with more of the stuff than the Almighty? What am I to make of a god who can't even live up to simple human decency and common courtesy?". He never said that sentence to me, but he lived it, he breathed it.
I think he finally "got it". The Great Depression, and all of those wars, the scandals and crimes, the oppression all across history isn't evidence of Him asleep at the switch. It's damning evidence against us, we collectively giving Him the one finger salute. The gifts and calling of the Great God are "without repentance"! Dad, Adam was responsible for the whole world! Care for the animals, cultivate the plants, guide the rains to their destination, raise those hills, fill these valleys! It was a vast responsibility, entrusted to him and his children. . . for all time! By virtue of him becoming a lunatic who demands to "do it his way", this of itself can never, never revoke the official and real responsibility he bears! If he becomes a worthless drunk, he yet ever remains responsible to defend the woods and seas. If he becomes a violent fraud, he is yet liable for the care of the fishes, birds, and streams. See Pop? You were dead right to demand loyal and good "public servants". You just didn't carry through the idea to it's fulfillment. There is a Real One, a True Son, the One Sane Man. . . ever!
"Well, that's very interesting, I'll have to think that over". Oops, channeling Pops again. How much of our care sunk in? Beats me. All I know for sure, is that the man died at peace. At long-damned last, Carl No Middle Initial Labor is at peace! I look forward to a real good glass of scotch, that and a Cuban, for one heck of a lucid, and interminable all-dayer!
Vaya con Dios Papa-san, go with God.
It ain't like this caught us all flat-footed. We were not blindsided by a shock. It was much more like the snow arriving in due time, just about six weeks after the first morning frost is spotted in late October. He just kinda ran outta juice.
I suppose it's inevitable that kids imprint upon their parents. I mean, what would the other option be? I imprinted as a boy, very heavily upon Carl N.M.I. Labor. By the time you hit your 30's or so, it becomes clear that you have become "more like your Dad (or Mom). . . than he is!". At minimum, such was the case with me. Now, as a side note; it is not entirely clear to me, whether in this essay to refer to the guy in the past or present tense. So there might well be some slop, category-wise herein. Anyhow, Pops was/is as much a "think" guy as you're likely to ever meet. It was all about cognitive brain action with the dude. A big word with Dad is, "to grasp"; as-in to understand a concept or idea. He loves puns, riddles, word problems, history and all things factual. A sort of one-man reality committee perhaps? Big conceptual word formats here are "realistic, unworkable, and actual" that there kind of thing. That is to say, he was informally at war with the entire schmeer of the "hold onto your dreams" school of thought; which has (until today at least) captured the imagination of the "West".
See? It wasn't really "all about" whether (or not) you were personally all fulfilled in life, realizing goals and whatnot. That junk was for rich kids. Us blue collar types, who in fact do the WORK required to make the world go round, don't have the leisure to hang around bellyaching about some vague sense of unfulfillment. There is altogether too much work for us to be doing around here, to allow for any standing around, whining about whims not realized. . . I drank deeply at this well, so too my brothers and sisters. The whole "hip generation" thing just basically mystified him. Uhm, them there swingin' cats who are out to "get in touch with themselves", so to "tune in, turn on, and drop out" are just so many ill groomed morons to Carl.
I think my favorite story of Dad's, was told just a year or two ago. He was really depressed, and so I just changed the topic on him. I said; "Pop, Christmas will be coming up pretty quick, what's the single most memorable Christmas you recall?". Without any hesitation, he jumped over into 1930. He was nine. He said; "You know what I got that year?. . . An orange!". It was the height of the Great Depression, and immigrant dirt-poor farmers (with a house full of kids), dug deep; and were able to outfit each one of their children with precisely one orange each! Hey, in the 30's it's not like you stroll the aisles of your friendly neighborhood grocer and pick up fresh produce gathered from across the world. Oranges were rare at that time of year! He said; "I took it upstairs with me up to bed. I peeled it carefully, and enjoyed like hell each and every slice! I saved-up the peel, and nibbled on it, until it was all gone. Best damned orange I ever had! Hell, I didn't even realize that our family was poor until I was about 14, when it dawned on me that Mom and Dad could not afford shoes for us boys.". So, the whole hip-generation thing with it's "angst, and the terror of being", or some darned thing, just was not a pressing concern for mister no middle initial. It was about work, it was about survival, and making the best that you can, of a bad situation. That's Pop.
The one word that comes to mind when I think of the man, is "integrity". He loved using words like "honesty, common sense, and judgement". I do not recall him ever once smirking slyly that someone "got away with" something or another. He firmly believed, and said; "It will catch up with them eventually. Just you wait and see.". The very idea for instance, of seeing a coin fall out of a stranger's pocket, and keeping it himself, would be laughably improbable. Such a thing simply would not occur. . .ever. Carl was ever and always on duty, keeping guard on his own soul, on his own appetites, and passions. Order, always and ever trumped chaos, and Pop was the man who made it happen. So if his word was/is "integrity" I prefer to translate that into mike-speak as "word-oath".
It was very difficult to anger him, (I managed it a few times only) but what surely drew his ire was "politicians", or more accurately "those dirty bastards". The entire problem here rotates upon the axis of word-oath. A man is as good as his word, and no more; and no less. Black, white, young, old, immigrant, native, educated, simple, none of that crap ever mattered a hoot. What the solitary measure was, was promise and it's fulfillment. Marriage sworn to death, was a playing of hardball on this score, and there was zero "chance" of him ever, ever "backing out, because we fell out of love". Such blather as that, was "incomprehensible bullshit", and that's him being charitable! Either you were a man. . . or you weren't, and the only working codex available so to determine that measure-by (in his book) was the "rock" of a man's word. This was Carl. "In the end you have to live with yourself, and your decisions. A man never went wrong by being honest". Oops, I appear to be channeling over here. But my point is this, "those dirty bastards" promised! Before God and man, with hand upon the Bible, they swore! They said they would uphold law, they said they would govern for the benefit of the whole community, not for the enriching of their stinking miserable cronies and goons! Dad could never forgive that. Ever.
Pop, for the majority of his life was "outgoing", or so he imagined at least. I (for one) am convinced that somewhen in the 30's, there must have been some type of social consensus "out there" that it was fundamentally a better kind of thing to be an extrovert. See? There are only two kinds of people, givers and takers, workers and bums, contributors and parasites. If that much be granted, then extro is always the better option, and if you'll just try (!) you too can become an out-going "people person"! Let's just say that the results of that experiment are (at best) "mixed". I saw through this, even as a boy. I've always preferred to be alone. I get inspired with one or two (at most) very close friends, in a lucid and interminable all-nighter. Being shoulder to shoulder with throngs, or interacting with strangers, pretending to care is a tax to pay, and it is exhausting. Carl was that way too, but for decades, could not really center in there. This extroverted gig was "the right thing to do", best to be outward poised, and well; that settles that. And it kinda worked (in an awkward way) all those years, until it all came crashing down a few years back. "We can always hope" is Carl Labor, but when it became clear to that very visual soul, that he could never retrieve lost eyesight, he slipped into a depressive pity party that shocked even him. He was scared I think by the depth of despair, and really really did NOT want to "deal with it". His old pattern was finally cracking. The other shoe had finally dropped, and he was panicked to somehow return it to it's "rightful place". Nan and I both knew the dark side; but it surprised the heck out of him. When I said; "So you wanna die huh Pop? Well, take a number, and get in line with every other swingin' dick! You think you're the first on this page Dad? I've battled down suicide for over 30 years, and kicked it's sorry ass. But, I didn't do it alone! Your daughter Nan; you recall her? You know the one devastated in heart, over that lost son? You dig that divorce drill of hers? And you don't think that (just maybe?) that nearly tore her to pieces? Newsflash Dad, she didn't do it alone either!". It was an odd response that I got from him. It seemed to disquiet him that "somehow" he had entirely "missed" major "facts". This sort of thing (if true) breaks the Carl rule you see? The "king of the (fact) world" ought not "miss" such enormities. But, he simply discounted the entire conversation as perhaps a hallucination? I might as well have been talking to a wall. The guy could be fantastically, and wildly rude when "needed".
Not quite two years ago, that whole "me, me, me thing"; with regard to "I just want it to end, I just want to die", slowly ever so slowly began to recede. When you feed a baby you use dinky spoons and lots of repeat efforts. Shovels are for feeding teenagers. 91 year old Pop was a baby, and so in little doses, we cover the turf over and over again, from a hundred perspectives, first close up and then from far away. But the recurring hiccup is him burping up the chow (again) because (oddly) hope "must live", and his appears to be very dead. So, simultaneously he's both right, and refuses to "go there". Hope did die! It happened on a hillside in desert country, perhaps you've heard?
Carl is big on "letting go". For decades, we all hear; "Just let your grief go. Let that anger pass, and we've got to just let go of worry". Sounds easy huh? But the roadblock here was always hope. We needy humans need hope like we need air. We wither and die without it, and Pop simply could not "let go" of his hopelessness. "To see is to understand, to view is to know. Without sight, what am I?". But he could not ever "see" the love all around him, nor could he "see" that hopelessness itself must at some point "be let go of". At least he couldn't see it without help. Pat, not a hundred times but more, Lynn, not Pat's amount, but more-so yet; guide, aid, comfort, and counsel. The world upside down, and the child is leading the parent home? Weird world you got there pal. Slowly but slowly, the wall which was Dad, the rock which was Carl; was being breached. He no longer fought me and rudely walked off, when the topic of Jesus came up. He actually sat still to listen to how the Captain came to find me? After 30 plus years, he finally sat still for that story? Who are you, and what have you done with Carl Labor? The key to the man wasn't really integrity, in itself, but rather; "How in honking hades it turned out that me, poor wrecked Carl, somehow or another apparently ended up with more of the stuff than the Almighty? What am I to make of a god who can't even live up to simple human decency and common courtesy?". He never said that sentence to me, but he lived it, he breathed it.
I think he finally "got it". The Great Depression, and all of those wars, the scandals and crimes, the oppression all across history isn't evidence of Him asleep at the switch. It's damning evidence against us, we collectively giving Him the one finger salute. The gifts and calling of the Great God are "without repentance"! Dad, Adam was responsible for the whole world! Care for the animals, cultivate the plants, guide the rains to their destination, raise those hills, fill these valleys! It was a vast responsibility, entrusted to him and his children. . . for all time! By virtue of him becoming a lunatic who demands to "do it his way", this of itself can never, never revoke the official and real responsibility he bears! If he becomes a worthless drunk, he yet ever remains responsible to defend the woods and seas. If he becomes a violent fraud, he is yet liable for the care of the fishes, birds, and streams. See Pop? You were dead right to demand loyal and good "public servants". You just didn't carry through the idea to it's fulfillment. There is a Real One, a True Son, the One Sane Man. . . ever!
"Well, that's very interesting, I'll have to think that over". Oops, channeling Pops again. How much of our care sunk in? Beats me. All I know for sure, is that the man died at peace. At long-damned last, Carl No Middle Initial Labor is at peace! I look forward to a real good glass of scotch, that and a Cuban, for one heck of a lucid, and interminable all-dayer!
Vaya con Dios Papa-san, go with God.
Sunday, November 23, 2014
Artifacts #20 (date unknown)
Note to reader; if you note a spooky similarity between old C.P.E. # 21, and #32, it's because I goofed, and did not notice that I was "re-correcting" the same essay? Oops.
Thinking somewhat about "artifacts" today, and I mean; by the use of that word, to indicate those things that human-kind build for themselves, that we are able to observe. As builders, as shapers, we make objects for "glory", and for "identity. Town hall is a magnificent edifice, because we are a magnificent people! Moreover, the equation of making-to-identity, of being known via observation of our hands' effort, is to be "a positive thing". We want an enormous structure, because it's better to be great, than small, or so we infer. And whether this is a valid concept on our our part or not, we are nonetheless built ourselves, such that we keep replicating the pattern. My keen observation here is not to condemn nor laud making-building per se, but to point out instead; our sleepwalking, as we do so!
Termites (at least some species) are a "community which builds". Like us, their structures are big, and unlike us they are not self-conscious. That means then, that no individual bug steps back from the mound to survey it's grandeur, so to thereby congratulate himself; or his kind. They are building in their sleep (so to speak), and thereby remain unable to link their efforts to their identity. We, on the other hand; are all about patting ourselves on the back. But is such patting itself, not a form of work? Why do we remain unaware of seeing this particular making (back-patting I mean), and further, we never inquire as to the sleepiness itself, that chronic zonking perhaps our "greatest-thing" yet built?
Across history, and around the world, man always has, and very likely shall continue building something called "homes". In that era, a tent serves; in this jungle we note a hut, up north we find an igloo. Whether it be building fortresses, castles or condos doesn't much matter here. The creature (us, I mean) always, and always builds "dwelling places". In this sense then, man is; "he who dwells-with. . .someone". We (apparently) cannot-not build "homes", and as sleepwalkers nor can we see this making "as us". Yes, we differentiate "who we are" from our house or hogan, and proceed to turn right around in order to brag-up our own casa! It is both, and they kinda keep on "cancelling" each other. It is that inner divorce (also which we industriously built), which "is us"! It is almost as-if there is more than one of "me" in here?
Or think for a moment of automobiles. Flashy or ugly? It don't really matter, new or old then? Nope, not that either. Not quite magic chariots, these pesky, expensive horse-less carriages of ours continue to act as artifacts of ours. And we do link our glory (or lack thereof?) to the owning, driving, and being seen in them by others, while simultaneously rejecting that behavior in others. The argument works to defy our selves, and that "thing" is what we build, over and over again. The "invisible and unconscious" aspect here is (perhaps?) roads! Viewed from the air, the sheer number of our smoothed, flattened roads, avenues, and boulevards is shocking. Hey man, that's a whole lotta asphalt down there! Our fancy-ugly rides, ride-upon. . ."something-we-forget". Man in this case is; "the flattener-straightener of the path". That traveler, that journeyer for whom the way is made, gets the glory, and is also remaining gloriously invisible behind those custom tinted windows! I'd tend to ask; "Which is the greater doing, plunking down some greenbacks to buy a new ride, or blowing out the hillsides and filling those swamps necessary for those fragile things to roll on?".
We build, for we must, and likewise we sleep, for we must also. When you are next summoned for a family emergency from one end of the land to the other, you go buy a ticket and fly. Swift and high we soar, roaring with the sounds of little gods as they sound their tiny thunder. That full tilt sprint across now the whole world, at nearly the speed of sound; is a "grand making" indeed. . . and yet who notices any of that? See? Grandma is real sick, and sister said we'd have to hurry, or she might not be able to recognize us! The part we consistently overlook is that the call did indeed cross oceans and continents, and successfully came through, and thus; we now know-enough to go! The fact that we can get there in four hours, instead of ten weeks is "asleep" to the reality of that mightier-yet call. In the rush to "get somewhere", that . . . "someone calling" gets overlooked. Those miles of wire, those satellite links and cell towers did not appear over-night on their own, it was they first we built, and promptly forgot. Calling determines us as "we who hear, and come at the call".
And so, our works-made, reveal "us". And part of what we thus reveal; is that we keep consistently forgetting "something, someone and some-why". We do remember to build and we do recall the admiring of ourselves in that making, but it's a bit like using a mirror. The image is reversed, and in that mirrored gazing, we fail to recall the original device of silvered glass itself. This disavowing of glass workers and miners and manufacturers is the price paid for thinking highly of my-our, image-backward. That divide within us, this unwholesome tandem affair of remembering to admire backwards, plus forgetting to admire (or thank) forwards, is the divide we always remember to build, and in that construct, we always forget that we "did it yet-again"!
From this perspective then, we observe that what our artifacts actually "are"; is the grounds of judgement. The actual path we build is for The One Coming. Every hill brought low, every valley raised, for "Another" to walk upon. In our perpetual forgetting, we thereby deem our own selves unfit to walk that path, and yet; build-it we must! Our very civilization, our "city of man" is a dwelling place for a. . . "Somebody" we dare not name, and in this very reluctance, we evict ourselves from that "place of rest". Consider for example, the "gubmint", and our no-longer republic. Defacto, it has become an empire instead of a constitutional republic. And all of our "concern for the poor" builds, not assistance, but in fact; a multi-generational permanently-poor class. L.B.J.'s "War on Poverty" turns out in practice to be a device to destroy black families by. Our present day "liberal immigration reforms" emerge not as a way to integrate new citizens, but a novel way to create a permanent slave-caste by. Of course (!) it is never openly named as such, mind you. We "liberalize for the good", but never for the good of the poor, but for the glory of "our" empire. We emerge thereby, as those sleepwalking our way into becoming; "they who build and hold empire-for. . . Somebody". In that undertaking, we endorse mistreatment of them unable to defend themselves, and as the internally divorced, this makes perfectly good sense. . . to us at least.
That "compassion which is cruelty", that miserable logic-bomb of "rights for those illegally present", is plainly and simply the expansion of federal powers into un-(anti actually) constitutional realms. As sleepwalkers, we are building "centralized power for the few over the many". Simply, we are re-inventing emperor status. Build we must! For there is indeed a lawful High King, the Emperor of Is, and His dwelling place is "here"! Our lousy, sawed off imitation of that high glad regal greatness is but more evidence against us. As oath-breakers, we construct a "house all under One Hand", as a "thing" simply, which must be built, and it shall, and surely it shall!
Insofar thereby, that our identities are linked to our making, and also our works damning us in that process; the situation appears hopeless. Our torpedo-job done upon our own selves, is pretty darned efficient! Man thereby "is". . . he who ain't good enough, by his own measure, and his measuring stick is broken to boot! No cure, no medicine, no remedy can possibly overthrow this, our mightiest making. We are digging our own grave, and into it go, we must! Death appears (to us at minimum) to exclude "hope", and yet it is precisely here that Hope (Himself!) shines brightest.
The new thing in earth, is not to try-harder to fix ourselves, but to surrender to death gladly! Joined to "Another's" death, we go-gladly! And it's not because we welcome it-itself (death I mean), but to greet He on the far side of same. Central to the confessing church thus, is the resurrected Champion, Good King Jesu, the righteous. The new thing made is that our new identities now include "those welcoming-home (Some-One)", and with assistance, that remembering is already begun! We have begun to emerge from our chronic fog, to recall for-Whom we build! Further, with holy-help, we have even begun to recall that He is the actual Builder-Extraordinaire, of Whom we are but fuzzy reflections.
Terrifyingly beautiful are His works, clothed in light, immortality, and a gladness-unkillable, He indeed, builds "something-new"! He is building an astonishing new creature, some sort of "compound individual". Billions of component-men, as one-new "freed-man" (or more accurately, freed-woman!). Building a "wife" for the Son then, none can, and none shall; halt this Mighty construct. No power available, be it in heaven, earth, or hell, or (God forbid!) all combined, can halt or derail His Making of the new-thing made. The entire "thing" is now become "Personal" to Him, and has become a matter of His own integrity and honor. So, this new-making, is the surest-thing; ever! Building thus, a new kind, we (of all people!) are being re-made to endure and enjoy that otherwise intolerable brilliance of His. He Is. . . Light. In Person!
Now, man qua man, becomes thereby a previously unthought thing, Never an "it", this He-They-Her, this compound-entity-everlasting, comes violently to life! And that non-ending motion is already begun.
Thinking somewhat about "artifacts" today, and I mean; by the use of that word, to indicate those things that human-kind build for themselves, that we are able to observe. As builders, as shapers, we make objects for "glory", and for "identity. Town hall is a magnificent edifice, because we are a magnificent people! Moreover, the equation of making-to-identity, of being known via observation of our hands' effort, is to be "a positive thing". We want an enormous structure, because it's better to be great, than small, or so we infer. And whether this is a valid concept on our our part or not, we are nonetheless built ourselves, such that we keep replicating the pattern. My keen observation here is not to condemn nor laud making-building per se, but to point out instead; our sleepwalking, as we do so!
Termites (at least some species) are a "community which builds". Like us, their structures are big, and unlike us they are not self-conscious. That means then, that no individual bug steps back from the mound to survey it's grandeur, so to thereby congratulate himself; or his kind. They are building in their sleep (so to speak), and thereby remain unable to link their efforts to their identity. We, on the other hand; are all about patting ourselves on the back. But is such patting itself, not a form of work? Why do we remain unaware of seeing this particular making (back-patting I mean), and further, we never inquire as to the sleepiness itself, that chronic zonking perhaps our "greatest-thing" yet built?
Across history, and around the world, man always has, and very likely shall continue building something called "homes". In that era, a tent serves; in this jungle we note a hut, up north we find an igloo. Whether it be building fortresses, castles or condos doesn't much matter here. The creature (us, I mean) always, and always builds "dwelling places". In this sense then, man is; "he who dwells-with. . .someone". We (apparently) cannot-not build "homes", and as sleepwalkers nor can we see this making "as us". Yes, we differentiate "who we are" from our house or hogan, and proceed to turn right around in order to brag-up our own casa! It is both, and they kinda keep on "cancelling" each other. It is that inner divorce (also which we industriously built), which "is us"! It is almost as-if there is more than one of "me" in here?
Or think for a moment of automobiles. Flashy or ugly? It don't really matter, new or old then? Nope, not that either. Not quite magic chariots, these pesky, expensive horse-less carriages of ours continue to act as artifacts of ours. And we do link our glory (or lack thereof?) to the owning, driving, and being seen in them by others, while simultaneously rejecting that behavior in others. The argument works to defy our selves, and that "thing" is what we build, over and over again. The "invisible and unconscious" aspect here is (perhaps?) roads! Viewed from the air, the sheer number of our smoothed, flattened roads, avenues, and boulevards is shocking. Hey man, that's a whole lotta asphalt down there! Our fancy-ugly rides, ride-upon. . ."something-we-forget". Man in this case is; "the flattener-straightener of the path". That traveler, that journeyer for whom the way is made, gets the glory, and is also remaining gloriously invisible behind those custom tinted windows! I'd tend to ask; "Which is the greater doing, plunking down some greenbacks to buy a new ride, or blowing out the hillsides and filling those swamps necessary for those fragile things to roll on?".
We build, for we must, and likewise we sleep, for we must also. When you are next summoned for a family emergency from one end of the land to the other, you go buy a ticket and fly. Swift and high we soar, roaring with the sounds of little gods as they sound their tiny thunder. That full tilt sprint across now the whole world, at nearly the speed of sound; is a "grand making" indeed. . . and yet who notices any of that? See? Grandma is real sick, and sister said we'd have to hurry, or she might not be able to recognize us! The part we consistently overlook is that the call did indeed cross oceans and continents, and successfully came through, and thus; we now know-enough to go! The fact that we can get there in four hours, instead of ten weeks is "asleep" to the reality of that mightier-yet call. In the rush to "get somewhere", that . . . "someone calling" gets overlooked. Those miles of wire, those satellite links and cell towers did not appear over-night on their own, it was they first we built, and promptly forgot. Calling determines us as "we who hear, and come at the call".
And so, our works-made, reveal "us". And part of what we thus reveal; is that we keep consistently forgetting "something, someone and some-why". We do remember to build and we do recall the admiring of ourselves in that making, but it's a bit like using a mirror. The image is reversed, and in that mirrored gazing, we fail to recall the original device of silvered glass itself. This disavowing of glass workers and miners and manufacturers is the price paid for thinking highly of my-our, image-backward. That divide within us, this unwholesome tandem affair of remembering to admire backwards, plus forgetting to admire (or thank) forwards, is the divide we always remember to build, and in that construct, we always forget that we "did it yet-again"!
From this perspective then, we observe that what our artifacts actually "are"; is the grounds of judgement. The actual path we build is for The One Coming. Every hill brought low, every valley raised, for "Another" to walk upon. In our perpetual forgetting, we thereby deem our own selves unfit to walk that path, and yet; build-it we must! Our very civilization, our "city of man" is a dwelling place for a. . . "Somebody" we dare not name, and in this very reluctance, we evict ourselves from that "place of rest". Consider for example, the "gubmint", and our no-longer republic. Defacto, it has become an empire instead of a constitutional republic. And all of our "concern for the poor" builds, not assistance, but in fact; a multi-generational permanently-poor class. L.B.J.'s "War on Poverty" turns out in practice to be a device to destroy black families by. Our present day "liberal immigration reforms" emerge not as a way to integrate new citizens, but a novel way to create a permanent slave-caste by. Of course (!) it is never openly named as such, mind you. We "liberalize for the good", but never for the good of the poor, but for the glory of "our" empire. We emerge thereby, as those sleepwalking our way into becoming; "they who build and hold empire-for. . . Somebody". In that undertaking, we endorse mistreatment of them unable to defend themselves, and as the internally divorced, this makes perfectly good sense. . . to us at least.
That "compassion which is cruelty", that miserable logic-bomb of "rights for those illegally present", is plainly and simply the expansion of federal powers into un-(anti actually) constitutional realms. As sleepwalkers, we are building "centralized power for the few over the many". Simply, we are re-inventing emperor status. Build we must! For there is indeed a lawful High King, the Emperor of Is, and His dwelling place is "here"! Our lousy, sawed off imitation of that high glad regal greatness is but more evidence against us. As oath-breakers, we construct a "house all under One Hand", as a "thing" simply, which must be built, and it shall, and surely it shall!
Insofar thereby, that our identities are linked to our making, and also our works damning us in that process; the situation appears hopeless. Our torpedo-job done upon our own selves, is pretty darned efficient! Man thereby "is". . . he who ain't good enough, by his own measure, and his measuring stick is broken to boot! No cure, no medicine, no remedy can possibly overthrow this, our mightiest making. We are digging our own grave, and into it go, we must! Death appears (to us at minimum) to exclude "hope", and yet it is precisely here that Hope (Himself!) shines brightest.
The new thing in earth, is not to try-harder to fix ourselves, but to surrender to death gladly! Joined to "Another's" death, we go-gladly! And it's not because we welcome it-itself (death I mean), but to greet He on the far side of same. Central to the confessing church thus, is the resurrected Champion, Good King Jesu, the righteous. The new thing made is that our new identities now include "those welcoming-home (Some-One)", and with assistance, that remembering is already begun! We have begun to emerge from our chronic fog, to recall for-Whom we build! Further, with holy-help, we have even begun to recall that He is the actual Builder-Extraordinaire, of Whom we are but fuzzy reflections.
Terrifyingly beautiful are His works, clothed in light, immortality, and a gladness-unkillable, He indeed, builds "something-new"! He is building an astonishing new creature, some sort of "compound individual". Billions of component-men, as one-new "freed-man" (or more accurately, freed-woman!). Building a "wife" for the Son then, none can, and none shall; halt this Mighty construct. No power available, be it in heaven, earth, or hell, or (God forbid!) all combined, can halt or derail His Making of the new-thing made. The entire "thing" is now become "Personal" to Him, and has become a matter of His own integrity and honor. So, this new-making, is the surest-thing; ever! Building thus, a new kind, we (of all people!) are being re-made to endure and enjoy that otherwise intolerable brilliance of His. He Is. . . Light. In Person!
Now, man qua man, becomes thereby a previously unthought thing, Never an "it", this He-They-Her, this compound-entity-everlasting, comes violently to life! And that non-ending motion is already begun.
Sunday, November 2, 2014
So Unify Already! #21 (date unknown)
So, we can't speak for you too well over here, but in my (sad) case, whenever the theme-topic of "unity" pops up, I tend to hear the opposite, and presume we are discussing schism. . . divorce maybe? Likewise, when the chat is all about "peace", it makes me want to fight. "Safety", for example (the topic I mean); is a dangerous thing, and makes me nervous. I "hear" what is not-said more-so than what is being verbally affirmed, it appears?
Here's an example; think for a moment of our fearless leaders in D.C., and what they know. They are completely aware and cognizant that "we must deal-with" the debt issue. . . and soon! If that be the topic here (fiscal responsibility perhaps?); what is the all too predictable result, would you guess? Well of course, we derive the forever-postponement gig, the usual foot-dragging and finger pointing drill. You know, don't you remember the "knucklehead shuffle"? It's what our leaders "do". We expect and anticipate the opposite results in this political instance, and I merely extend the system to be "more inclusive". It seems entirely reasonable to me that the imperative; "We simply-must act responsibly!", yields no single human ever, actually being held accountable. And so likewise; "We must find unity!", is pretty darned divisive stuff, it appears to me.
Thereby I am inferring a generalized perversity of things, a futility-bomb running amok in creation; producing "undesired results, blow-back, and unintended consequence". This generally backward thing is "there", wouldn't it be better for us to take it into account, rather than being perpetually "surprised by results"? You tell me! The glory of gospel, is (in part at least) that there is a "new thing afoot", in the world. To "ignore" both of these realities, both the blow-back, and also the only working solution (!); is our norm, as survivors of the train-wreck at Eden.
In the old model, as we intend to "build unity", we keep getting these pesky warring factions, and the old model prescribes just here; to try harder! Somewhat like realizing that you are standing in a hole, and therefore "trying to get out of it". . . by digging faster! The new thing in earth (He be; I Am. . . The Save-er) formats instead, as a desire-pursuit of Him. One of the "unanticipated products" of that hot chase, is a new kind of unity. We could name it "indirect", if that would be helpful? The idea here though is simple, "goal" is never an abstraction. The one-goal, the actual destination, ain't an "it" at all, it is He-Him, Live and in Person! To stupidly insist upon the old model then can only yield up what it always has (and must); "unfortunate, unintentional disaster(s)". Ignoring Jesus will not "make this go-away", we might as well face it. The old order is passing away, soon to be no more.
Go tell a drunkard; "Hey, that stuff will kill ya, if you don't stop." Predictable result please? "I need a drink". "Inform" a smoker, "You know (don't you?) that those things are bad for you!". Product of the discourse? He continues to smoke like a chimney, but just not in your presence. The public aspect of your "helping" generates a "secret-private" practice. Expectable enough, but I say that the shameful aspect thereof, ain't his smoke, it is that you "should have known" it would occur. Your lousy "helping" only makes things worse.
The glory of gospel solves for our consistent perversity, in prescribing King Yeshua as "Goal (In Person), and further, Him as source of strength to "get there". For a track star, He (Lord Christ that is) is the starting block, the path-run, and the finish line. In His mending of that open wound breech betwixt God and man, and then that further misery; of man versus man, peace as a topic can make sense "here", but only in that it is couched in terms of a martial victory! The old model of peace breeds some pretty cranky warring weirdos, but the new thing in reality is (instead); a victory-won, and applied by "Another, for The Other"!
And not to start a brand new brawl over here, I'd just like to comment that; in the case of a new peace at large, that peace of man-to-man, founded upon the new peace of each man, to his Maker; this kind of thing forms the normal Christian view, I think. As such, it is about as far as we'd ordinarily care to go. But to me, this type of thing is short of the mark, in that if union, unity and all that one-ness jazz, is all there be to the topic; then we have just catapulted ourselves back into the believer's ghetto!
See? We forgot Moe again. The founder of the muslim cult also promotes a "peace built upon one-god, and his victory". Clearly rejecting the Trinity, his moron-god, that pip-squeak crummy "mono-divine" of his, is also "all-for peace". It is merely that such peace is mainly defined by their cute little beheadings, and their "holy" blowing to bits of old ladies, with truck bombs. . . The "peace" of Islam, is very clearly of the old-model variety, but on steroids. That runt, "allah" just might "forgive" provided you are very, very good, and by "good", we mean evil here. Oh, and the idiot god in question is also absolutely arbitrary, and so it helps a whole lot if a beheading bombing "saint" is also really, really lucky! There exists no "mechanism" within this cult to influence allah's final decision upon the matter, all is fate. . . which translates as, "dig faster!". Doubtless, old Moe down in hell; wears a tee-shirt emblazoned with "Try Harder. . .dammit!". For us in the Christian barrio to restrain ourselves just here, and limit true unity, to "our kind" is what my comments are about. We keep settling for a live and let live, type of uneasy truce with our "co-religionists"? Not me. We are all about stealing-blind the mullahs, hijacking the Imam's slaves, and turning those freed into true saints. Peace is leveraged, it is bought. Always.
John-Apostle clearly teaches the saints. "God is love", says he, with aid of the Spirit of Truth. We thereby infer that the Father loving the Son, and the Son gladly doing all of His Dad's desire; is the love spoken of here. It is the active-vital, the operative-dynamic love-for-Another, not some dumb static valuation of ours, that of "love itself". Moe's moron pervert god knows zero of love, for there is no "other"! So then in this sense, unity as in Tri-Unity, posits a "conflict"! Am I posing a conflict within God-Almighty? Some sort of "division to be overcome"? High heresy, we all shout! But, and yet. . . but and yet, something like our reality of division (never divisive!) is the foundation for all love. Deal with it already! You argue with your spouse not because you hate her, but for love of her! Even we know that much. In Him, the division might be more of roles (how would I know?), but there is a "breakthrough, a release" even, or more pointedly much-much more-so "There"! The very foundation of things, the meaning of life, is lurking; right around these-here parts, I reckon. In our sad stupid, small lives, some of the very best parts are those sweet moments of glad embrace after a snit. It's those refreshing insights of the heart, such that we re-value anew the "other" afterwards. In Him/Them, this small reality of ours; becomes a world-shaking revolution, a stealing-blind of the god of this age, a reunion, surprise party fiesta-bash like none other-ever!
In the Three-One, agenda number one is justice/righteousness, and is entirely non-negotiable. Our moronic revolt, that high treason against sanity itself, this cult of madness shall surely end, in space-time, by main force! The Warrior Champion shall surely surely shatter His foes, with zero "budge" available on that score. And the Son is all-for it. . . with one minor hiccup.
Such Holy devastation as all that; kinda "conflicts" with His stated pledge-oath to save His own to the uttermost. If True Justice descends, then there are no "survivors" of that wreckage, saints included! But, what to do? If it's "opposite", Mercy wins the day, and those murdering cultists are let off scot free, then Righteouesness itself is wrecked, cleanly impossible. And the "stand-off on high" has precisely one working solution. The division, requiring reconciliation, has an outrageous price, which "Somebody" simply MUST pay. Christ the Lord thus, generates a peace between man and man, based upon a peace wrought in Blood; between man and God. But what we "forget here" is the "Reunion" betwixt Father and Son! That new-peace breaking out, descends even as low as we? Yes, and Amen.
The Peace, the Actual Peace, is an extravagant affair, a "going too far", on purpose! Our slim whisper of friendship-reforged (after a feud) is but a slender whisper, a numbed remembrance of the Genuine Article! Here, we run up against, not the city limits of the belief ghetto, but of language itself. In Him; "Somehow" full-tilt-bozo Justice is fully displayed, while during/and wild-madman-screaming Mercy is established. The "two" are in-Him, and are occurring "out-here". Both/And, not either/or, is the new thing in earth.
And that, my friend; is why Moe is so blastedly wrong. . . about everything! In morbidly attempting to "homogenize" these furies into some bland "none of the above" hybrid, Moe is demanding thereby an "impersonal (arbitrary) justice" teamed pointlessly, with a "sentimental (cruel) mercy", founded squarely upon the blockhead platform of works-righteousness. And just coincidentally, Moe is supervising this mess? Predictable results please? Murder, deceit, poverty, chaos and all the other "glories" of the muslimized world; are plainly the product. Meanwhile, the new thing in earth (all in pursuit of the Son!) yields humility, friendly generosity, peaceful law abiding souls. There is no "abstract justice" any more than there is an abstractable "love". Even The Father Almighty "pursues" the Son! Abstracted justice knows nothing of a son crushed, nor brought back home after a long journey. An abstract kindness (should such even exist), is blind and deaf to the dead-One standing up again, it knows no grief, and is completely blind to loss.
Pursue wealth, find a hard hearted poverty of soul. Pursue the Son, find the Treasure surpassing the value of all worlds combined. Pursue unity, find that stubborn loneliness haunting the heart. Pursue The One, find an embrace, fierce, proud of you and "unnaturally glad" at your return!
He is perpetually "higher" than we are able to aim, and aim at Him; we do! Let's face it, He is just "letting us find Him". He's being nice, but for Another's sake. In Genesis, the God fashions a "wife" for "His son"(Adam). Yes, she brings him grief, and also, and also through her; the Promised One is sent, she's "worth it". For His True Son, He fashions a Wife, now fancy that!
She is the new thing in earth too, and yes; you are welcome "here"!
Sunday, October 26, 2014
The Odds #22 (date unknown)
So, have you bought your ticket yet? This week's lotto jackpot is in excess of five hundred megabucks. And what precisely, by buying a tickie; are your "odds" of cashing in on that bad boy? Well, practically speaking; zero! But the "actual odds" are said to be in the neighborhood of one in two hundred million-ish (or so). I know, let's us build a roulette wheel with those same odds, shall we? Each slot will be 1/2" wide, and our marble the normal size, and will nicely fit. That wheel with 200 thousand-thousand slots in it, how big is that sucker anyhow?
Discounting the partitions between slots (because that would make the thing even larger!), I make it a hundred million inch circle. Gee, that would be 8.3 million feet, or 1578 miles? Mr. pi into the picture then, and we get this thing five hundred (and two) miles. . . across? Such a wheel, exceeds the square mile area of most of the fifty states, individually considered. The odds of our marble dropping in (from an airplane maybe?) to your one slot, on the first try are slim-ish I'd guess, and kinda-sorta identical to the lotto!
So we derive a circle, one in which you could drive around at 70 m.p.h., in about twenty two hours (with zero rest stops); sprinting by 1/5th of a billion slots, and you are "hoping" it hits yours? Am I hallucinating over here, why would this (?) make sense to anybody at all? You'd have much much better odds being hit by lightning, while spotting Elvis exiting a U.F.O. And people eat this junk up!
As a boy, I used to speculate with my buddy Gary, "What would you do, if you had a million bucks?". And likely, if you are human; similar talks come to mind in your past. You too, when young did much the same. It's "dream talk", and this (I think) is what drives the purchasing of this state sponsored con-game. Uh, by the way, what were those "dreams" really about anyhow?
Tell me, weren't yours about "becoming important"? Or, wasn't it that "we'd never have to worry about things?" In such dreams then, we are wanting (so to speak) "the room to be great", and moreover, a great-ness; such that we are "free" to be publicly generous, so to be identified, as a "known quantity" type person. We want wealth, "so-that" we can be generous, is that it? So, who is the generosity-cop around here prohibiting such excess today, I'd wonder. Ah, and here we see the rub. We "can't be" generous. . . if it hurts! We desire a financial security, such that giving away, only hurts a little bit, and the loss won't be missed, thank you very much!
Clearly then, something in our thinking has cleanly gone off the rails. As some type of psychological train-wreck, we'd like to have the cake. . . we just now ate! To have the ability (somehow) to retain the wealth, and simultaneously lose it; I wonder why would such "make us happy" anyhow? How come nobody inquires at this door? Or perhaps, what are "the odds" of such a roaring silence, just here?
If happiness consists of giving away a treasure you did not earn (and could not lose); so as to benefit those you love best, what do we thus infer from our use of the word "happy" in this case? Let's ditch the dream stuff for a second, and act as if this is real. If this type of giving and receiving is even a little bit real, what is the genuine article, of which lotto-money is a vague-fuzzy hint? Further, tell me friend, what (by the way) are "the odds" that we already know-and-reject that reality? And offhand, I'd say they are nearly 100%. . . the original sure thing!
Let's imagine a boatload of criminals. With no motor, oar or sail, they are adrift. But the bad news is that they are upstream of Niagara Falls. I'd wonder; "What is the single most crucial treasure they desire? Uh, a rope maybe, some way to make landfall in time; a loyal friend on shore, aware of the predicament perhaps?". Well, something along those lines (surely) are of obviously more value than others we could name. Cheeseburgers, Corvettes and fast girls will do these pitiful sailors N-O good just now. It is "escape" they should focus upon, I'd wager. And for us to fixate on "stuff" in such a situation, means not; that dreaming itself is "wrong", but simply crazily irrelevant.
We have been razzle-dazzled somewhere along Niagara River, I'd assess. All of the precious rocks, rare metals, paper money and art masterpieces in the known universe are even worse than cheese burgers just now. They are ballast! And down, is not "the direction of choice" just now. Our minds are giving us a bogus read-out then? For certain, such a boatload of failures (as us!) zealously coveting money (at just exactly the wrong time), reveals an inability on our part to recognize treasure itself! Danger of the Falls, namely that all too close destruction; clearly trumps all acquisition claims. And we can't see it! The fruit of Eden then, an un-natural forgetfulness, plus a severe stupidity at estimating real value? Yep, that gang of sailors "is us". Our minds are off the rails, and we are unable to notice that, because we use our minds to notice things! That's one helluva big "oops" there.
What those screwy sailors actually require is a friend ashore, firmly anchored to dry land. They need that person to throw a rope with a grappling hook, so to drag their wet butts to safety. They need a second chance at rafting, a new lease on life!
The Biblical reality thus is a consistent linkage of forgiveness to resurrection. The wealth He spreads is to those He loves-best, so as to wipe out the ballast dragging down, The condemnation, and that lawful guilt and shame of our (serial) failure; is the "golden-ballast" in question, and we are unable to notice! Our father Adam once upon a time "flew the bird" to the Almighty, and that basic insanity still formats as yours and my anchor! The way to the safe shore isn't findable inside the boat. But this does not mean that hope itself is dead, it means my brain is! I take no notice of the Man with the hook! That is to say; "I, of-and-in, myself, thus fail". The second chance at life, that rising from the tomb, is the Real Treasure, and he owns it, and He gives it freely, with zero "regrets for it's loss".
Made-lately, a somewhat better sailor by the Man ashore, I too have come to spread a wealth I never earned! Oddly, I find that just about nobody wants it? Yet it makes us happy to bless them nutzo sailors yet out on the waters, with their numbskull urge to acquire a platinum anchor! In His Name, for His Glory, by His power, we keep adding to that happy nation of the rescued-from-water.
The Guy with the hook shouts over the roar, "The sins you remit (in earth) are indeed remitted in heaven!". We then (friend!), spread gladly the only actual Treasure (Mr. Treasure to you) there is; the wealth required for when the boat meets the Falls. Enough with the ballast/anchor collection already, lose that garbage, and pull! The hook Man instructs us "Forgive us (we ask). . as we likewise are forgiving (gladly!) them other bonehead sailors". See? He gives. . . Himself, the only "Thing-ever", worth having. And with Him, comes all the ballast you could possibly ever swallow. . .plus! He, The True Treasure, "impoverishing" His Own account, is granting to the poor wealth, and we the "enriched"- thereby, give-again. . . Him! We give Him-calling, Him-hauling in to safety, Him reconciling before it's just too late! The solitary winner, that ticket to true riches, happiness and truth; have you bought yours yet?
If your mind is working correctly, it remembers time! The clock function is basic to loosing those aboard a damned vessel before (!) she goes over. He's so blasted Good, it's scary! Now, what are the odds of me saying that? Oh, about a 100%; I'd wager. And baby, that's a good bet!
Discounting the partitions between slots (because that would make the thing even larger!), I make it a hundred million inch circle. Gee, that would be 8.3 million feet, or 1578 miles? Mr. pi into the picture then, and we get this thing five hundred (and two) miles. . . across? Such a wheel, exceeds the square mile area of most of the fifty states, individually considered. The odds of our marble dropping in (from an airplane maybe?) to your one slot, on the first try are slim-ish I'd guess, and kinda-sorta identical to the lotto!
So we derive a circle, one in which you could drive around at 70 m.p.h., in about twenty two hours (with zero rest stops); sprinting by 1/5th of a billion slots, and you are "hoping" it hits yours? Am I hallucinating over here, why would this (?) make sense to anybody at all? You'd have much much better odds being hit by lightning, while spotting Elvis exiting a U.F.O. And people eat this junk up!
As a boy, I used to speculate with my buddy Gary, "What would you do, if you had a million bucks?". And likely, if you are human; similar talks come to mind in your past. You too, when young did much the same. It's "dream talk", and this (I think) is what drives the purchasing of this state sponsored con-game. Uh, by the way, what were those "dreams" really about anyhow?
Tell me, weren't yours about "becoming important"? Or, wasn't it that "we'd never have to worry about things?" In such dreams then, we are wanting (so to speak) "the room to be great", and moreover, a great-ness; such that we are "free" to be publicly generous, so to be identified, as a "known quantity" type person. We want wealth, "so-that" we can be generous, is that it? So, who is the generosity-cop around here prohibiting such excess today, I'd wonder. Ah, and here we see the rub. We "can't be" generous. . . if it hurts! We desire a financial security, such that giving away, only hurts a little bit, and the loss won't be missed, thank you very much!
Clearly then, something in our thinking has cleanly gone off the rails. As some type of psychological train-wreck, we'd like to have the cake. . . we just now ate! To have the ability (somehow) to retain the wealth, and simultaneously lose it; I wonder why would such "make us happy" anyhow? How come nobody inquires at this door? Or perhaps, what are "the odds" of such a roaring silence, just here?
If happiness consists of giving away a treasure you did not earn (and could not lose); so as to benefit those you love best, what do we thus infer from our use of the word "happy" in this case? Let's ditch the dream stuff for a second, and act as if this is real. If this type of giving and receiving is even a little bit real, what is the genuine article, of which lotto-money is a vague-fuzzy hint? Further, tell me friend, what (by the way) are "the odds" that we already know-and-reject that reality? And offhand, I'd say they are nearly 100%. . . the original sure thing!
Let's imagine a boatload of criminals. With no motor, oar or sail, they are adrift. But the bad news is that they are upstream of Niagara Falls. I'd wonder; "What is the single most crucial treasure they desire? Uh, a rope maybe, some way to make landfall in time; a loyal friend on shore, aware of the predicament perhaps?". Well, something along those lines (surely) are of obviously more value than others we could name. Cheeseburgers, Corvettes and fast girls will do these pitiful sailors N-O good just now. It is "escape" they should focus upon, I'd wager. And for us to fixate on "stuff" in such a situation, means not; that dreaming itself is "wrong", but simply crazily irrelevant.
We have been razzle-dazzled somewhere along Niagara River, I'd assess. All of the precious rocks, rare metals, paper money and art masterpieces in the known universe are even worse than cheese burgers just now. They are ballast! And down, is not "the direction of choice" just now. Our minds are giving us a bogus read-out then? For certain, such a boatload of failures (as us!) zealously coveting money (at just exactly the wrong time), reveals an inability on our part to recognize treasure itself! Danger of the Falls, namely that all too close destruction; clearly trumps all acquisition claims. And we can't see it! The fruit of Eden then, an un-natural forgetfulness, plus a severe stupidity at estimating real value? Yep, that gang of sailors "is us". Our minds are off the rails, and we are unable to notice that, because we use our minds to notice things! That's one helluva big "oops" there.
What those screwy sailors actually require is a friend ashore, firmly anchored to dry land. They need that person to throw a rope with a grappling hook, so to drag their wet butts to safety. They need a second chance at rafting, a new lease on life!
The Biblical reality thus is a consistent linkage of forgiveness to resurrection. The wealth He spreads is to those He loves-best, so as to wipe out the ballast dragging down, The condemnation, and that lawful guilt and shame of our (serial) failure; is the "golden-ballast" in question, and we are unable to notice! Our father Adam once upon a time "flew the bird" to the Almighty, and that basic insanity still formats as yours and my anchor! The way to the safe shore isn't findable inside the boat. But this does not mean that hope itself is dead, it means my brain is! I take no notice of the Man with the hook! That is to say; "I, of-and-in, myself, thus fail". The second chance at life, that rising from the tomb, is the Real Treasure, and he owns it, and He gives it freely, with zero "regrets for it's loss".
Made-lately, a somewhat better sailor by the Man ashore, I too have come to spread a wealth I never earned! Oddly, I find that just about nobody wants it? Yet it makes us happy to bless them nutzo sailors yet out on the waters, with their numbskull urge to acquire a platinum anchor! In His Name, for His Glory, by His power, we keep adding to that happy nation of the rescued-from-water.
The Guy with the hook shouts over the roar, "The sins you remit (in earth) are indeed remitted in heaven!". We then (friend!), spread gladly the only actual Treasure (Mr. Treasure to you) there is; the wealth required for when the boat meets the Falls. Enough with the ballast/anchor collection already, lose that garbage, and pull! The hook Man instructs us "Forgive us (we ask). . as we likewise are forgiving (gladly!) them other bonehead sailors". See? He gives. . . Himself, the only "Thing-ever", worth having. And with Him, comes all the ballast you could possibly ever swallow. . .plus! He, The True Treasure, "impoverishing" His Own account, is granting to the poor wealth, and we the "enriched"- thereby, give-again. . . Him! We give Him-calling, Him-hauling in to safety, Him reconciling before it's just too late! The solitary winner, that ticket to true riches, happiness and truth; have you bought yours yet?
If your mind is working correctly, it remembers time! The clock function is basic to loosing those aboard a damned vessel before (!) she goes over. He's so blasted Good, it's scary! Now, what are the odds of me saying that? Oh, about a 100%; I'd wager. And baby, that's a good bet!
Saturday, October 18, 2014
That Faith Thing
There are few topics, it seems just plain weirder than "faith". Don't look here for some novel lexicon derived, formalized definition. Rather, I shall proceed (as usual) "to shoot from the hip". And just forget all those warm-fuzzy "inspirational stories" we normally note. See? The strange-pants nature of our topic is (usually) made even harder to understand, and less clear by such stuff. I shall begin then, with an uneducated and ignorant critique of the two words, I often apply to discuss this "thing" called faith.
Neither "assumption, nor presumption" work very well, as faith words, except to say that we do apply the principles of same. We take for granted (say) the truth-veracity of the Bible, or we agree in the inner-person that the claims, threats, and promises of Lord Jesus are valid, and so, to be built-upon? Do we have agreement so-far?
My lead-off pitch then is to disqualify both! The lexical approach formats here as an odd loop. Both words "pre-sume" and "as-sume", are working off of a non-existent (I think) English word "sume". The latin "sumere", in it's base form, means; "to take". The flatly frustrating results we work with here are "to-pre-take" (as in presume), or worse yet "to-adopt-take" (as the word assume). Both make hash of the brain.
To take, "prior to taking" (presume), makes you wonder about the "second taking" don't it? Think "2nd Blessing" folk here perhaps? You're "in", but not really-really-in, til you do the second dose? Or contrast that with; "to adopt-take" (assume). It makes a guy wonder whether the "adoption" in question. . was a legal one maybe? Think (perhaps) of some of those interminable "altar calls" for the benefit of them believers who have been with the Lord for decades? Like maybe, after 37 years of walking with Him, I suddenly realize that I've only been fooling myself all along? This doubling-up, this chronic "emphasizing" keeps bumping out zero output.
So, in order to 'fix" things, we get into the goopy sentimental stories about just how very special your adorable mutt is? That wagging tail, and doggy smile "just speaks volumes to your heart". . . does it? I'd advise you, to tell it to shut up! Just pat the pup on the head, and toss a ball for him to chase, but don't confuse him with an angel. That cute story was intended to draw us close; and I find it repels! Again, we observe a two, that cancel each other. Now, this sort of word puzzle isn't only found here.
Take a glance at "cleave", or even weirder (?) "unravel" sometime. Having attended more than your fair share of Christian weddings, you already know that for the two to cleave, is a way to say "to join, or become-one-with". Have you forgotten, that it also means the flat opposite too? It also means, to divide, or to tear asunder? Who is the comedian inventing that mess? Likewise, I feel confident that "to unravel" is not a difficult verb to grasp. What then, of "it's opposite"? Other than Shakespeare, who even uses "ravel"? Define it please? Why, of course! It means "to separate the threads apart", which is exactly what we meant by it's "un-version"? Where the heck is a word-cop when you need one? This "taking prior to being taken", this unwinding of strings, which is the "opposite of" unwinding strings. . .is strange-pants indeed!
Speaking of strange pants, have you noticed "the longs"? Who knows (or cares?) when these dumb costumes became cool? But, take a look at those young fellars yonder. Are they "saying" with their "longs", to the world; "Hey lookee Mama, I'm wearing Daddy's shorts!", or what? Apparently, Daddy is an NFL lineman, (say) 6'-10", weighing in at 315 lbs.? These silly trousers have enormous barrel legs, and extend on "junior" to well above the ankle, and plainly below the knee. Too short for old-school "high-waters", and way too long for "shorts", these absurd "longs", are in point of fact, "shorts". Make 'em go-away, will ya?
You get the idea here, a "thing" which we thought was "one" keeps doubling-up, to a net zero. This is not always the case. The word "nail" is a noun, and also a verb. When you say, "Hand me the nails, so's we can nail this together", I get it. But to attempt a similar dual usage to faith, we find that the sucker backfires, big-time! Faith (the noun), is this horrible mish-mash; where-in it sounds as if we were discussing Episcopalians, or something? To say, "There are many valid faiths"; ends up a recitation of your religious gew-gaws, ceremonies, festivals and doctrinal spin. . . and as such, constitute "a thing" (?) like maybe a nail or something? If there were a "thing" called faith, I'd proceed to ignore it, and demand that we discuss the verb.
For these types of reasons, I much prefer to jog over, and hijack from Van Til, the word "presuppose", when discussing the verb; faith. Using the same lexical hatchet we applied prior, presuppose yields; "to before-under-position", which makes entirely good sense to a southern N.M. plumber!
Come on down for a visit sometime. We'll just chase off that horde of tarantulas and rattlers for a few minutes, so to take a look-see at "a new house", in the "rough-in" phase okay? By the way, if you are unfamiliar with N.M., it's that place where they set off the world's first atomic weapon. . . and nobody noticed the difference! So, picture some really lousy dirt (bring some fertilizer for the weeds, will ya?), and in that (over-priced!) lot, we note some sticks nailed-up in a square-ish way. In the middle of those, there are a gang of pipes sticking up. There's your new house! See? As an unruly bunch of gypsies, we plumbers; predicting the future, are "before-under-positioning", all day long! We are busy finding walls, which not (yet) existent, are nonetheless "there". We drag along this great big crystal ball, you see? Well actually, we just use the cartoon (a.k.a. blueprint) to ever so carefully locate not-yet walls, not-yet-set fixtures, and such like details. We place our pipes, "just so". Just so what? So that, after the cementeros pour the slab, and after the nail-beaters stand up the walls, (because we are all using the same cartoon!) poof and kapow, just like magic; our stuff is exactly where it needs to be! Well, kinda-sorta, at least. But, they really are right after we get done slugging the cured slab with a big hammer, and that's fer-sure.
The root word "to suppose" also suggests the idea of "to forge a copy, or to substitute". Hey, that works too, the substitute (for the actual house) is the idiot architect's drawing. It "stands-for another", namely that not-yet, and also-yet-"here" wall we search for.
So, I tend heavily to toss the "taking-prior, or post" jazz (presume, assume); then pitch that slushy feel-good junk, and proceed to chronically ignore those schlocky E-pip gowns and candles as "faithy". See? A guy has just gotta ask at some point; "What in heck are we building here anyhow?". You've likely heard faith discussed as; "the already, and not yet", but I say, "Not yet WHAT?". I'm kinda rude that way.
And I'd just like to say, along these lines, that as fellow builders, a man has just got to admire termites! Down in South America, those little dudes build the equivalent of bug skyscrapers! Very large structures (like maybe 8-12 feet tall) they build, and "Casa de-pipsqueak" is their project. I've heard, that if you dig down, find the queen, and kill her, suddenly across the nest, all the blue-collar types come to a screeching halt? Suddenly finding themselves laid-off, and with no job prospects, they wander around aimlessly. I dunno, maybe the she-bug is telepathic or something? But in any case, with her safe and sound, they work like plumbers (!) and can remember what to do next, one team, one hand with one design. Her alive and well, the mighty big house of little tiny wood-biters goes up-and-up!
Now, the verb faith is a bit like termites, except more-so. There is a new thing coming (and in rough-in stage, already come). I name him ("her" actually) "the many-man", or perhaps "the compound individual". Notice; this is not just another case of doubling-to-zero. You might ask; "Tell me in a one word answer, is the structure a many, or an individual?". Here's my badge number, and as an undercover word-cop, and I say that the answer is "Yes", or as the E-pips insist, "Amen and Amen".
The Community which is One (the Trinity) is really the only "place" where this yes actually functions, but He-They are working-out. . . "from there"! So then, in that "place" (Mr. Place to you) the question; "Which is of supreme value, the individual, or the group?", is stridently answered with "Yes!". Or similarly; "Which ultimately guides, the unity of the group, or the ambition of the person?", predictably yields "Amen!" as response.
Basically, here's the deal, The Project Manager has designed, and is in the process of building a "wife". . . for His Son. Is that okay with you? And that wife is the new singular-many, that compound-individual we just now spoke of. Ya dig? So, even though, "on paper" she is-already, out here on the job-site, she ain't-yet, and also, is begun. With Him, it's a both/and thing, not an either/or. . . if that helps any?
This faith verb works out to; "Do you trust the Project Manager/Architect (same Guy) and the cartoon, or do you suppose Him to be just another knucklehead college grad who has never nailed two 2 x 4's together?". Well, I'd say; "This particular Builder slapped together. . reality itself. . . on His first try? Moreover, with no jack-hammering at all, to get things back into the wall", is how I read the resume. This Guy knows what He's doing, He's Good, real Good!
The only glitchy thing in the design plan is that, if we talked only about bug-houses, we'd never confuse the bug with the house. Here, a confusion keeps appearing, but not that 2 = 0 thing. Faith does this, it switches the title to the property? That wife, structure, that new thing in earth, being constructed, turns out to be His new digs! We; like animated stones are being fit and mortared together, so to form a dwelling "place" for Him. A "house" which is alive, ain't like any other, a true one-of-a-kind, and she's going up, fer-sure. The 2 = 0 thing keeps trying to shift categories, inside of the cosmos, whereas His solution is to import into reality, a new kind of ownership, "from outside" of things. And it's big, real big! Hey baby, talk about skyscrapers!
That's faith for you, a joining-in; an "Amen" ("Yes", in English) to the Project Manager's big brainwave. This wife, this compound-person, where-in this whopper, big ol' slug of persons are being knit-together, and rebuilt from the ground up, into something that doesn't exist yet (but does), is present tense; being gathered and assembled into that new-one-"thing".
It don't much matter whether you personally "like, or approve of" the project. The thing is going up, with or without you. However, it would much-much benefit you (personally) to join. I mean, who wants to be just another building inspector, or some mere vandal, both of whom imagine they can halt or slow the project? Heck, even the angels above, are glad to doff their hard-hats, so to extend a warm handshake, as you come on-board! After all, this "place" is that one; where welcome itself was invented!
Have as many "doubts" as you'd like to, as to whether the P.M. is "real", (He, Builder of Is?); or if this wife-gig is such a hot idea in the first place. Hey, knock yourself out, with all the doubt you can dredge up. None of that stuff will slow the job. It's your part (!) of the work, until you get used to the schedule around here. But, just as long as you don't walk-off the job-site, you'll be taught how to build, as you go along. It's the original o.j.t. sweet deal.
Best job. . . ever! Uh, take off your hard-hat there pal, that would be "Mrs. Job" to you.
Neither "assumption, nor presumption" work very well, as faith words, except to say that we do apply the principles of same. We take for granted (say) the truth-veracity of the Bible, or we agree in the inner-person that the claims, threats, and promises of Lord Jesus are valid, and so, to be built-upon? Do we have agreement so-far?
My lead-off pitch then is to disqualify both! The lexical approach formats here as an odd loop. Both words "pre-sume" and "as-sume", are working off of a non-existent (I think) English word "sume". The latin "sumere", in it's base form, means; "to take". The flatly frustrating results we work with here are "to-pre-take" (as in presume), or worse yet "to-adopt-take" (as the word assume). Both make hash of the brain.
To take, "prior to taking" (presume), makes you wonder about the "second taking" don't it? Think "2nd Blessing" folk here perhaps? You're "in", but not really-really-in, til you do the second dose? Or contrast that with; "to adopt-take" (assume). It makes a guy wonder whether the "adoption" in question. . was a legal one maybe? Think (perhaps) of some of those interminable "altar calls" for the benefit of them believers who have been with the Lord for decades? Like maybe, after 37 years of walking with Him, I suddenly realize that I've only been fooling myself all along? This doubling-up, this chronic "emphasizing" keeps bumping out zero output.
So, in order to 'fix" things, we get into the goopy sentimental stories about just how very special your adorable mutt is? That wagging tail, and doggy smile "just speaks volumes to your heart". . . does it? I'd advise you, to tell it to shut up! Just pat the pup on the head, and toss a ball for him to chase, but don't confuse him with an angel. That cute story was intended to draw us close; and I find it repels! Again, we observe a two, that cancel each other. Now, this sort of word puzzle isn't only found here.
Take a glance at "cleave", or even weirder (?) "unravel" sometime. Having attended more than your fair share of Christian weddings, you already know that for the two to cleave, is a way to say "to join, or become-one-with". Have you forgotten, that it also means the flat opposite too? It also means, to divide, or to tear asunder? Who is the comedian inventing that mess? Likewise, I feel confident that "to unravel" is not a difficult verb to grasp. What then, of "it's opposite"? Other than Shakespeare, who even uses "ravel"? Define it please? Why, of course! It means "to separate the threads apart", which is exactly what we meant by it's "un-version"? Where the heck is a word-cop when you need one? This "taking prior to being taken", this unwinding of strings, which is the "opposite of" unwinding strings. . .is strange-pants indeed!
Speaking of strange pants, have you noticed "the longs"? Who knows (or cares?) when these dumb costumes became cool? But, take a look at those young fellars yonder. Are they "saying" with their "longs", to the world; "Hey lookee Mama, I'm wearing Daddy's shorts!", or what? Apparently, Daddy is an NFL lineman, (say) 6'-10", weighing in at 315 lbs.? These silly trousers have enormous barrel legs, and extend on "junior" to well above the ankle, and plainly below the knee. Too short for old-school "high-waters", and way too long for "shorts", these absurd "longs", are in point of fact, "shorts". Make 'em go-away, will ya?
You get the idea here, a "thing" which we thought was "one" keeps doubling-up, to a net zero. This is not always the case. The word "nail" is a noun, and also a verb. When you say, "Hand me the nails, so's we can nail this together", I get it. But to attempt a similar dual usage to faith, we find that the sucker backfires, big-time! Faith (the noun), is this horrible mish-mash; where-in it sounds as if we were discussing Episcopalians, or something? To say, "There are many valid faiths"; ends up a recitation of your religious gew-gaws, ceremonies, festivals and doctrinal spin. . . and as such, constitute "a thing" (?) like maybe a nail or something? If there were a "thing" called faith, I'd proceed to ignore it, and demand that we discuss the verb.
For these types of reasons, I much prefer to jog over, and hijack from Van Til, the word "presuppose", when discussing the verb; faith. Using the same lexical hatchet we applied prior, presuppose yields; "to before-under-position", which makes entirely good sense to a southern N.M. plumber!
Come on down for a visit sometime. We'll just chase off that horde of tarantulas and rattlers for a few minutes, so to take a look-see at "a new house", in the "rough-in" phase okay? By the way, if you are unfamiliar with N.M., it's that place where they set off the world's first atomic weapon. . . and nobody noticed the difference! So, picture some really lousy dirt (bring some fertilizer for the weeds, will ya?), and in that (over-priced!) lot, we note some sticks nailed-up in a square-ish way. In the middle of those, there are a gang of pipes sticking up. There's your new house! See? As an unruly bunch of gypsies, we plumbers; predicting the future, are "before-under-positioning", all day long! We are busy finding walls, which not (yet) existent, are nonetheless "there". We drag along this great big crystal ball, you see? Well actually, we just use the cartoon (a.k.a. blueprint) to ever so carefully locate not-yet walls, not-yet-set fixtures, and such like details. We place our pipes, "just so". Just so what? So that, after the cementeros pour the slab, and after the nail-beaters stand up the walls, (because we are all using the same cartoon!) poof and kapow, just like magic; our stuff is exactly where it needs to be! Well, kinda-sorta, at least. But, they really are right after we get done slugging the cured slab with a big hammer, and that's fer-sure.
The root word "to suppose" also suggests the idea of "to forge a copy, or to substitute". Hey, that works too, the substitute (for the actual house) is the idiot architect's drawing. It "stands-for another", namely that not-yet, and also-yet-"here" wall we search for.
So, I tend heavily to toss the "taking-prior, or post" jazz (presume, assume); then pitch that slushy feel-good junk, and proceed to chronically ignore those schlocky E-pip gowns and candles as "faithy". See? A guy has just gotta ask at some point; "What in heck are we building here anyhow?". You've likely heard faith discussed as; "the already, and not yet", but I say, "Not yet WHAT?". I'm kinda rude that way.
And I'd just like to say, along these lines, that as fellow builders, a man has just got to admire termites! Down in South America, those little dudes build the equivalent of bug skyscrapers! Very large structures (like maybe 8-12 feet tall) they build, and "Casa de-pipsqueak" is their project. I've heard, that if you dig down, find the queen, and kill her, suddenly across the nest, all the blue-collar types come to a screeching halt? Suddenly finding themselves laid-off, and with no job prospects, they wander around aimlessly. I dunno, maybe the she-bug is telepathic or something? But in any case, with her safe and sound, they work like plumbers (!) and can remember what to do next, one team, one hand with one design. Her alive and well, the mighty big house of little tiny wood-biters goes up-and-up!
Now, the verb faith is a bit like termites, except more-so. There is a new thing coming (and in rough-in stage, already come). I name him ("her" actually) "the many-man", or perhaps "the compound individual". Notice; this is not just another case of doubling-to-zero. You might ask; "Tell me in a one word answer, is the structure a many, or an individual?". Here's my badge number, and as an undercover word-cop, and I say that the answer is "Yes", or as the E-pips insist, "Amen and Amen".
The Community which is One (the Trinity) is really the only "place" where this yes actually functions, but He-They are working-out. . . "from there"! So then, in that "place" (Mr. Place to you) the question; "Which is of supreme value, the individual, or the group?", is stridently answered with "Yes!". Or similarly; "Which ultimately guides, the unity of the group, or the ambition of the person?", predictably yields "Amen!" as response.
Basically, here's the deal, The Project Manager has designed, and is in the process of building a "wife". . . for His Son. Is that okay with you? And that wife is the new singular-many, that compound-individual we just now spoke of. Ya dig? So, even though, "on paper" she is-already, out here on the job-site, she ain't-yet, and also, is begun. With Him, it's a both/and thing, not an either/or. . . if that helps any?
This faith verb works out to; "Do you trust the Project Manager/Architect (same Guy) and the cartoon, or do you suppose Him to be just another knucklehead college grad who has never nailed two 2 x 4's together?". Well, I'd say; "This particular Builder slapped together. . reality itself. . . on His first try? Moreover, with no jack-hammering at all, to get things back into the wall", is how I read the resume. This Guy knows what He's doing, He's Good, real Good!
The only glitchy thing in the design plan is that, if we talked only about bug-houses, we'd never confuse the bug with the house. Here, a confusion keeps appearing, but not that 2 = 0 thing. Faith does this, it switches the title to the property? That wife, structure, that new thing in earth, being constructed, turns out to be His new digs! We; like animated stones are being fit and mortared together, so to form a dwelling "place" for Him. A "house" which is alive, ain't like any other, a true one-of-a-kind, and she's going up, fer-sure. The 2 = 0 thing keeps trying to shift categories, inside of the cosmos, whereas His solution is to import into reality, a new kind of ownership, "from outside" of things. And it's big, real big! Hey baby, talk about skyscrapers!
That's faith for you, a joining-in; an "Amen" ("Yes", in English) to the Project Manager's big brainwave. This wife, this compound-person, where-in this whopper, big ol' slug of persons are being knit-together, and rebuilt from the ground up, into something that doesn't exist yet (but does), is present tense; being gathered and assembled into that new-one-"thing".
It don't much matter whether you personally "like, or approve of" the project. The thing is going up, with or without you. However, it would much-much benefit you (personally) to join. I mean, who wants to be just another building inspector, or some mere vandal, both of whom imagine they can halt or slow the project? Heck, even the angels above, are glad to doff their hard-hats, so to extend a warm handshake, as you come on-board! After all, this "place" is that one; where welcome itself was invented!
Have as many "doubts" as you'd like to, as to whether the P.M. is "real", (He, Builder of Is?); or if this wife-gig is such a hot idea in the first place. Hey, knock yourself out, with all the doubt you can dredge up. None of that stuff will slow the job. It's your part (!) of the work, until you get used to the schedule around here. But, just as long as you don't walk-off the job-site, you'll be taught how to build, as you go along. It's the original o.j.t. sweet deal.
Best job. . . ever! Uh, take off your hard-hat there pal, that would be "Mrs. Job" to you.
Monday, October 13, 2014
John Kennedy #23 (date late 2011)
It's funny how an idea can get "stuck" in the mind, and even if it's not a particularly clear nor useful thing, the stinker just keeps doing laps, and won't go away! If such thoughts do not "lead anywhere", or merely complicates things, we wonder; "Why bother writing it down?" Well, it's just this, I am (surely!) not the best judge in town, as to whether these C.P.E.s are worth a hoot or not. How about you be the judge here, eh?
Just now, I am reading an unusual book. Entitled "That Day With God"; it is a collection of sermons, homilies and prayers all delivered on the same "Sabbath day" (weekend actually), and hence the title? Gee, let's see; late Nov. of '63, why bother recording those particular sermons? Oh, I know. . . John Kennedy was murdered in public, 22 Nov. 1963. That killing is a grievous loss, an open wound, which has only has festered over the years, never truly healing; and that following Saturday and Sunday, there was record attendance at church and synagogue, across the land. Of the many words spoken on those two days, we have in this book a sample of perhaps fifty (or so), presentations to read.
Historically then, I suspect it to be a unique book, in that we might recall a couple of things, so as to better view the material. My experience says that most sermons are prepared (at minimum), a day or two ahead of the time of delivery. If so; then these were written something like ten to forty hours after the "hit", and so are very "fresh" historical documents. At most, several days passed, but what we note is, that "already", mere hours after the assassination:
(a) It is firmly asserted, that a lone gun-man, "must have been" the (solitary) shooter.
(b) We all "share in the guilt", in that "we allow hate and intolerance to exist in society".
(c) JFK was some sort of glow-in-the-dark, secular saint.
What is remarkable here, is that these very early-on views, have to a large degree survived the next 48 years. . . intact! Isn't it odd? Fifty samples taken from across the nation, and from across all denominational, and even belief-system lines, all so very uniformly line up, mere hours after the killing? Moreover, those same ideas don't "go-away" over the next half-century? This is pushing "coincidence" over into the realm of the uncanny, I'd say.
How could have, all of those pastors, priests and rabbis have "known for sure", that Lee Oswald did the deed, prior to any real investigation by the police? How could they have been so certain that there was but one shooter? And my estimate here, is that some very powerful people were (and still are!) "managing" the news, and so; "shaping" public opinion. There is simply too much agreement around here, we know too-much, too-soon; and that first guessing is the final view? It ain't natural, I tell ya!
My clue is not so much, the usual "conspiracy-theory" thing, but is much more simple. We don't need to be told that "we" are responsible, when a David Berkowitz, or Charlie Manson butcher people. Nor are "we all guilty" about James Earl Ray or Sirhan Sirhan. So, why do we "need to" hear that junk when Oswald (supposedly) does so? And I say, we need no smoky room full of tri-lateralists; nor any illuminati, secretly planning evil deeds for incomprehensible ends, when we already know full well, that for absolutely certain; that L.B.J., J. Edgar Hoover, and the Dulles brothers absolutely despised the brothers, John and Bobby, and would have danced on their graves! So we know that the powerful-then, had motive, opportunity and means. No "shadow organizations" are required. So, this whole communal guilt-trip thing, is entirely beside the point, and unnecessary for the explanation. At best; it's pure smoke and mirrors, at worst, it's devilish. And speaking of devils. . .
Now, as to the "sainthood" of the victim, I'll tread lightly here, and simply say that if this is indeed a case of martyrdom, then it's yet, but another, and in a long string. And we have tons of examples of those, we compare life and doctrine. Martyrs (witnesses) are killed to shut them up, and silence their witness. We don't have to make up anything, but to simply tell the truth (which to my thinking), is exactly what is in short supply, lo; these many decades!
So, here's how you hide an elephant in America, you tell him to sit down in the middle of the living room, and smile! Nobody will see him. Or more pointedly; this is how you kill an elephant in America, you blow out the back of it's skull with hundreds of live witnesses, and then next proceed to swear up and down; "The shot 'must have' come FROM the rear!" Nobody will see. Lee Oswald (supposing he was even at Dealey Square that day!), was in one of the few places the shot(s) could not have come from. John is nailed from the front, and his brain-parts go flying backward, over the trunk of the limo. Jackie, in shock and horror, climbs out on the rear of the vehicle to retrieve the thing (like, maybe she can put it back?). The lady is hysterical, and wildly disoriented, but she is not blind, nor is she insane. She "just knows somehow" that the brain is "back there", and not "up there" in the front seat. Meanwhile, where (supposedly) is Oswald? Above, and behind the car? The guy is firing U-turn bullets from up yonder maybe? And to this day, the "experts" continue to preach that Kennedy was hit from the rear. Smile! Nobody will see.
Later, when the Zapruder film materializes, the stinking FeeBees cut and splice the thing to "show" his head being first rocked forward. Actually, in the film, that forward motion was the recoil inertia of the blow. They tried to switch it around, "so as to reveal" him; as-if impacted from the rear. But the splice job was so entirely bogus, that it was ridiculous, and proceeded to quietly go away. Smile! And never a one agent indicted, nor disciplined for falsifying evidence? What say you, J. Edgar? Meanwhile, the Warren Commission "loses testimony" which just co-incidentally does not agree with a rear-shot assault. Next, they alter the texts of those few reports which they do accept, they black-out major sections of their own "findings". . . but surely-surely they had "nothing to hide", right Mr. President. . . Ford? Yep, Jerry was on that commission. The Doctors over at Parkland Hospital, swore up and down, that a huge hole was blown out the right rear of Kennedy's skull. Very oddly indeed, the Naval surgeons (none of whom were certified to do autopsies?) "found only a small hole" back there? The "official autopsy" is a complete fraud. Smile! Nobody will see. Further, no police detective, local, state or federal (ever since) is even mildly curious about the astronomical odds of those many eyewitnesses who "mysteriously died" within a very few years of that day? People were threatened, evidence "disappeared", the gun "found in the shooter's nest" is not even the same weapon that was later submitted as Oswald's gun? Smile, nobody will see. Speaking of which, it would have been the shot of the century, in that, the (junk) Mannlicher Carcano "used" was, besides being a lousy rifle, was found afterward to not even being sighted in! Atop that, what with Lee known to be a lousy marksman and all, and it coming from the wrong direction? Smile. The Mannlicher would be akin to using a beat-up '93 Yugo, as the get-away car in the bank-job heist of the century? Smile. Nobody (ever) will see. Not only that, but the "miracle U-turn bullet", after striking two men (who together, did not line-up with "the nest"), is later "found intact" on The President's gurney at Parkland? Marvel of marvels, the thing is totally un-deformed? Wow, talk about flukey eh? . . ."Were it jus-like dat, unka-L.B.? Why shore-nuff it were, junior-tater-bug. . . You jus trus-me, would I lie?" Uh, to be blunt, yes; indeed you would-lie, and did-lie (Repeatedly!), you murdering S.O.B. . . Smile! Nobody will see. That's how to kill an elephant, American style.
The wound is deep, and it refuses to heal, and will not "go-away". The bullet is fired and the beast might fall immediately, or he might stagger on for awhile. In our case, it's been 48 years so-far. . . We have been trained to not-link the shot, to the collapse; in that it takes so very long for him to go down. Big critter! Therefore, there "can be no connection" between then and now, and only "conspiracy nuts" disagree. But I say this; the animal when it finally fails, will be bleeding. . . money?
See? In the same way that there is "no link" between then and now, likewise, there is "no link to be made" between inflation, and money supply! Our American catechism is very clear on this. Killings can only be done by "lone-nuts, and we can never know why". That solves that. However, we do feel quite certain that government never kills anybody, how could it; we are a democracy! Likewise; we have no idea as to why inflation arrives sometimes, but we do suspect that the moons of Jupiter might be involved somehow? Anyhow, it just arrives every now and again (from outer space?), but we do "remain free" to wish it away! To the money supply, no link exists. That inflation is just weird stuff! Furthermore, we see no link between these "self evident truths", and that committee of pervert clowns running the show, and "managing the news". There is such thing as "brainwashing", no such thing exists. . .
Back in the "hip generation" there was much distrust of "the establishment". Hippies very much thought "the man" was a pretty bad guy, and so, were "for" sex-drugs & rock n roll. So what? Newsflash, this just in; in that fight, "the man" won. . .again! If we compared briefly John's murder, to Joshua's we would note a couple of things right away. If the sanctioned killing by "the man" in 33 A.D. had been blamed on "a lone-nut", although we already knew that the "establishment" powerful actively hated him, who would be fooled? I'm going out on a limb some, but my guess is that not a single 1st cen. Hebrew baby could have been fooled into buying the idea that it was Barrabas who nailed Him up to that horrid tree, and that "we can never know why". Not a single one of His people would have believed for a moment that "our civil servants are doing a thorough investigation" so to determine, "if Barrabas acted alone". So obviously, it's a slender parallel, but my idea today is that even if such nonsense had somehow prevailed, it could not have survived fifty, or a hundred years for the simple reason that the very same "establishment" carrying out the original murder, was still killing the followers of Joshua! It would have been entirely impossible to "fool them in this way". So, why is it so damned easy to fool us? Were those "primitives" all that much more smarter than us? Or more pointedly, were they all that much more courageous perhaps?
As the community of the blind, we accept the fairy tale of "Lee dun-it", because it allows us the leisure to imagine that we ourselves, "mean well; and that our hallowed institutions (like us!) are basically good". Evil therefore exists, either as a plainly inexplicable crazy anger by a certain few imbalanced-sick individuals, or it is some type of diffused and non-local gas. As such; "We all share in the blame" (although no single person is ever blamed!). In this type of thinking then, we are assuming government itself (of all things!), and ourselves to be "basically good"? What unmitigated horse-anal-extract! And whatever the early believers' thoughts were, on politics as a topic (I wouldn't know); I do find it difficult to swallow that those folks inherently trusted the Roman "man". "He" was the one who was ever so industrious and honest, as to be slaughtering them for amusement in "his" sick circuses. . . just a thought there. The absolutely last thing that they would have ever concluded, was that their "man" was "basically good", much less themselves so! But, the pure B.S. (or was that H.S.?) of the snow-job Commission's report, those patent absurdities and contradictions, that big ol' slug of blank spots, plus the many deaths since, we somehow find "convincing"? So too, at the circus, the Romans did also. . . Smile! Nobody will see.
Between JFK and BHO, the elephant of meaning and truth has collapsed, and few indeed mourn his passing. Nowadays, it is considered "irrational" to link that killing, by that "establishment-then", to the killing of the dollar, by this "establishment-now". That elephantine bleeding, of those "unfunded liabilities" of the next half century are "estimated at" (because they are afraid to say the actual number!) at 50-200 trillion dollars. Newsflash; when money "goes away", neither power, nor the power-ful, go with it. But rather; "In these dire hours, we must (sadly) invoke "temporary" (you understand?) emergency powers for the duration of the crisis". . .See? it's always all-about those newsflash bulletins, and that gang of bigger than life emergencies. Stage magicians (and politicians too?) operate by distracting the eye, from where the action actually is. That "magic" is how this junk is done. "We don't have time to think it through, this is an emergency!" And from JFK getting nailed, to, and up through 9-11; the swift-sure hand of "the great" is always, and always to use "emergencies" to expand federal powers, and to limit yours. It has a name by the way, historically; it is called "propaganda". Don't like that one very much do you? Hows about "brainwashing" then? We have been trained (trained by whom?) "not to see. . . just certain things". But it ain't rocket science. Want to know who whacked John? Follow the money trail, it's "that complex".
One Man, and One Man alone, the True King Joshua who stood up again alive after His murder at the hands of "the man", can (or ought be!) trusted with power. . for He sought it not! Rather, He sought out His enemies, so to make them into friends? As His friends were in those days, and for His friends alive today, and those to friends yet to be born, "the man" will always try to silence, to ridicule, to jail, and finally to murder. We are their "enemies", or so they believe. But what odd enemies we are! We, who alone in all the world, pray for their souls? With enemies like this, who needs friends?
The truth cuts both ways. He alone is raised, and with Him a mighty (and glad) host rises-also; at His Mighty Shout. He remembers their fall. He remembers. . . everything, and yes He recalls perfectly that day at Dealey Square. . . unka-L.B., dirty J. Edgar, and foul Allen-D!
Soloman says it this way, "Fear God, keep His commands, and you shall live!" Right on Sol, right on baby! You da man!
Just now, I am reading an unusual book. Entitled "That Day With God"; it is a collection of sermons, homilies and prayers all delivered on the same "Sabbath day" (weekend actually), and hence the title? Gee, let's see; late Nov. of '63, why bother recording those particular sermons? Oh, I know. . . John Kennedy was murdered in public, 22 Nov. 1963. That killing is a grievous loss, an open wound, which has only has festered over the years, never truly healing; and that following Saturday and Sunday, there was record attendance at church and synagogue, across the land. Of the many words spoken on those two days, we have in this book a sample of perhaps fifty (or so), presentations to read.
Historically then, I suspect it to be a unique book, in that we might recall a couple of things, so as to better view the material. My experience says that most sermons are prepared (at minimum), a day or two ahead of the time of delivery. If so; then these were written something like ten to forty hours after the "hit", and so are very "fresh" historical documents. At most, several days passed, but what we note is, that "already", mere hours after the assassination:
(a) It is firmly asserted, that a lone gun-man, "must have been" the (solitary) shooter.
(b) We all "share in the guilt", in that "we allow hate and intolerance to exist in society".
(c) JFK was some sort of glow-in-the-dark, secular saint.
What is remarkable here, is that these very early-on views, have to a large degree survived the next 48 years. . . intact! Isn't it odd? Fifty samples taken from across the nation, and from across all denominational, and even belief-system lines, all so very uniformly line up, mere hours after the killing? Moreover, those same ideas don't "go-away" over the next half-century? This is pushing "coincidence" over into the realm of the uncanny, I'd say.
How could have, all of those pastors, priests and rabbis have "known for sure", that Lee Oswald did the deed, prior to any real investigation by the police? How could they have been so certain that there was but one shooter? And my estimate here, is that some very powerful people were (and still are!) "managing" the news, and so; "shaping" public opinion. There is simply too much agreement around here, we know too-much, too-soon; and that first guessing is the final view? It ain't natural, I tell ya!
My clue is not so much, the usual "conspiracy-theory" thing, but is much more simple. We don't need to be told that "we" are responsible, when a David Berkowitz, or Charlie Manson butcher people. Nor are "we all guilty" about James Earl Ray or Sirhan Sirhan. So, why do we "need to" hear that junk when Oswald (supposedly) does so? And I say, we need no smoky room full of tri-lateralists; nor any illuminati, secretly planning evil deeds for incomprehensible ends, when we already know full well, that for absolutely certain; that L.B.J., J. Edgar Hoover, and the Dulles brothers absolutely despised the brothers, John and Bobby, and would have danced on their graves! So we know that the powerful-then, had motive, opportunity and means. No "shadow organizations" are required. So, this whole communal guilt-trip thing, is entirely beside the point, and unnecessary for the explanation. At best; it's pure smoke and mirrors, at worst, it's devilish. And speaking of devils. . .
Now, as to the "sainthood" of the victim, I'll tread lightly here, and simply say that if this is indeed a case of martyrdom, then it's yet, but another, and in a long string. And we have tons of examples of those, we compare life and doctrine. Martyrs (witnesses) are killed to shut them up, and silence their witness. We don't have to make up anything, but to simply tell the truth (which to my thinking), is exactly what is in short supply, lo; these many decades!
So, here's how you hide an elephant in America, you tell him to sit down in the middle of the living room, and smile! Nobody will see him. Or more pointedly; this is how you kill an elephant in America, you blow out the back of it's skull with hundreds of live witnesses, and then next proceed to swear up and down; "The shot 'must have' come FROM the rear!" Nobody will see. Lee Oswald (supposing he was even at Dealey Square that day!), was in one of the few places the shot(s) could not have come from. John is nailed from the front, and his brain-parts go flying backward, over the trunk of the limo. Jackie, in shock and horror, climbs out on the rear of the vehicle to retrieve the thing (like, maybe she can put it back?). The lady is hysterical, and wildly disoriented, but she is not blind, nor is she insane. She "just knows somehow" that the brain is "back there", and not "up there" in the front seat. Meanwhile, where (supposedly) is Oswald? Above, and behind the car? The guy is firing U-turn bullets from up yonder maybe? And to this day, the "experts" continue to preach that Kennedy was hit from the rear. Smile! Nobody will see.
Later, when the Zapruder film materializes, the stinking FeeBees cut and splice the thing to "show" his head being first rocked forward. Actually, in the film, that forward motion was the recoil inertia of the blow. They tried to switch it around, "so as to reveal" him; as-if impacted from the rear. But the splice job was so entirely bogus, that it was ridiculous, and proceeded to quietly go away. Smile! And never a one agent indicted, nor disciplined for falsifying evidence? What say you, J. Edgar? Meanwhile, the Warren Commission "loses testimony" which just co-incidentally does not agree with a rear-shot assault. Next, they alter the texts of those few reports which they do accept, they black-out major sections of their own "findings". . . but surely-surely they had "nothing to hide", right Mr. President. . . Ford? Yep, Jerry was on that commission. The Doctors over at Parkland Hospital, swore up and down, that a huge hole was blown out the right rear of Kennedy's skull. Very oddly indeed, the Naval surgeons (none of whom were certified to do autopsies?) "found only a small hole" back there? The "official autopsy" is a complete fraud. Smile! Nobody will see. Further, no police detective, local, state or federal (ever since) is even mildly curious about the astronomical odds of those many eyewitnesses who "mysteriously died" within a very few years of that day? People were threatened, evidence "disappeared", the gun "found in the shooter's nest" is not even the same weapon that was later submitted as Oswald's gun? Smile, nobody will see. Speaking of which, it would have been the shot of the century, in that, the (junk) Mannlicher Carcano "used" was, besides being a lousy rifle, was found afterward to not even being sighted in! Atop that, what with Lee known to be a lousy marksman and all, and it coming from the wrong direction? Smile. The Mannlicher would be akin to using a beat-up '93 Yugo, as the get-away car in the bank-job heist of the century? Smile. Nobody (ever) will see. Not only that, but the "miracle U-turn bullet", after striking two men (who together, did not line-up with "the nest"), is later "found intact" on The President's gurney at Parkland? Marvel of marvels, the thing is totally un-deformed? Wow, talk about flukey eh? . . ."Were it jus-like dat, unka-L.B.? Why shore-nuff it were, junior-tater-bug. . . You jus trus-me, would I lie?" Uh, to be blunt, yes; indeed you would-lie, and did-lie (Repeatedly!), you murdering S.O.B. . . Smile! Nobody will see. That's how to kill an elephant, American style.
The wound is deep, and it refuses to heal, and will not "go-away". The bullet is fired and the beast might fall immediately, or he might stagger on for awhile. In our case, it's been 48 years so-far. . . We have been trained to not-link the shot, to the collapse; in that it takes so very long for him to go down. Big critter! Therefore, there "can be no connection" between then and now, and only "conspiracy nuts" disagree. But I say this; the animal when it finally fails, will be bleeding. . . money?
See? In the same way that there is "no link" between then and now, likewise, there is "no link to be made" between inflation, and money supply! Our American catechism is very clear on this. Killings can only be done by "lone-nuts, and we can never know why". That solves that. However, we do feel quite certain that government never kills anybody, how could it; we are a democracy! Likewise; we have no idea as to why inflation arrives sometimes, but we do suspect that the moons of Jupiter might be involved somehow? Anyhow, it just arrives every now and again (from outer space?), but we do "remain free" to wish it away! To the money supply, no link exists. That inflation is just weird stuff! Furthermore, we see no link between these "self evident truths", and that committee of pervert clowns running the show, and "managing the news". There is such thing as "brainwashing", no such thing exists. . .
Back in the "hip generation" there was much distrust of "the establishment". Hippies very much thought "the man" was a pretty bad guy, and so, were "for" sex-drugs & rock n roll. So what? Newsflash, this just in; in that fight, "the man" won. . .again! If we compared briefly John's murder, to Joshua's we would note a couple of things right away. If the sanctioned killing by "the man" in 33 A.D. had been blamed on "a lone-nut", although we already knew that the "establishment" powerful actively hated him, who would be fooled? I'm going out on a limb some, but my guess is that not a single 1st cen. Hebrew baby could have been fooled into buying the idea that it was Barrabas who nailed Him up to that horrid tree, and that "we can never know why". Not a single one of His people would have believed for a moment that "our civil servants are doing a thorough investigation" so to determine, "if Barrabas acted alone". So obviously, it's a slender parallel, but my idea today is that even if such nonsense had somehow prevailed, it could not have survived fifty, or a hundred years for the simple reason that the very same "establishment" carrying out the original murder, was still killing the followers of Joshua! It would have been entirely impossible to "fool them in this way". So, why is it so damned easy to fool us? Were those "primitives" all that much more smarter than us? Or more pointedly, were they all that much more courageous perhaps?
As the community of the blind, we accept the fairy tale of "Lee dun-it", because it allows us the leisure to imagine that we ourselves, "mean well; and that our hallowed institutions (like us!) are basically good". Evil therefore exists, either as a plainly inexplicable crazy anger by a certain few imbalanced-sick individuals, or it is some type of diffused and non-local gas. As such; "We all share in the blame" (although no single person is ever blamed!). In this type of thinking then, we are assuming government itself (of all things!), and ourselves to be "basically good"? What unmitigated horse-anal-extract! And whatever the early believers' thoughts were, on politics as a topic (I wouldn't know); I do find it difficult to swallow that those folks inherently trusted the Roman "man". "He" was the one who was ever so industrious and honest, as to be slaughtering them for amusement in "his" sick circuses. . . just a thought there. The absolutely last thing that they would have ever concluded, was that their "man" was "basically good", much less themselves so! But, the pure B.S. (or was that H.S.?) of the snow-job Commission's report, those patent absurdities and contradictions, that big ol' slug of blank spots, plus the many deaths since, we somehow find "convincing"? So too, at the circus, the Romans did also. . . Smile! Nobody will see.
Between JFK and BHO, the elephant of meaning and truth has collapsed, and few indeed mourn his passing. Nowadays, it is considered "irrational" to link that killing, by that "establishment-then", to the killing of the dollar, by this "establishment-now". That elephantine bleeding, of those "unfunded liabilities" of the next half century are "estimated at" (because they are afraid to say the actual number!) at 50-200 trillion dollars. Newsflash; when money "goes away", neither power, nor the power-ful, go with it. But rather; "In these dire hours, we must (sadly) invoke "temporary" (you understand?) emergency powers for the duration of the crisis". . .See? it's always all-about those newsflash bulletins, and that gang of bigger than life emergencies. Stage magicians (and politicians too?) operate by distracting the eye, from where the action actually is. That "magic" is how this junk is done. "We don't have time to think it through, this is an emergency!" And from JFK getting nailed, to, and up through 9-11; the swift-sure hand of "the great" is always, and always to use "emergencies" to expand federal powers, and to limit yours. It has a name by the way, historically; it is called "propaganda". Don't like that one very much do you? Hows about "brainwashing" then? We have been trained (trained by whom?) "not to see. . . just certain things". But it ain't rocket science. Want to know who whacked John? Follow the money trail, it's "that complex".
One Man, and One Man alone, the True King Joshua who stood up again alive after His murder at the hands of "the man", can (or ought be!) trusted with power. . for He sought it not! Rather, He sought out His enemies, so to make them into friends? As His friends were in those days, and for His friends alive today, and those to friends yet to be born, "the man" will always try to silence, to ridicule, to jail, and finally to murder. We are their "enemies", or so they believe. But what odd enemies we are! We, who alone in all the world, pray for their souls? With enemies like this, who needs friends?
The truth cuts both ways. He alone is raised, and with Him a mighty (and glad) host rises-also; at His Mighty Shout. He remembers their fall. He remembers. . . everything, and yes He recalls perfectly that day at Dealey Square. . . unka-L.B., dirty J. Edgar, and foul Allen-D!
Soloman says it this way, "Fear God, keep His commands, and you shall live!" Right on Sol, right on baby! You da man!
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